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CITY LEGENDS 



BY 

WILL CARLETON 

AUTHOR OF 

"FARM BALLADS" "FARM LEGENDS 
"FARM FESTIVALS" ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED 



NEW EDITION FROM NEW PLATES 




NEW YORK AND LONDON 
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 

1898 



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9791 



Copyright, 1889, by Harper & Brothers. 



All rights reserved. 



Copyright, 1898, by Harper & Brothers. 




TW0C0H.-.HcCtlVE0. 



DcMcatcD 

TO THE MEMORY OF 
"JUDDIE" 



PREFACE 

It will be noticed that these Legends are di- 
vided into seven different Chains. Whether the 
links of dialogue and interlude with which they 
are connected be gold, silver, or base metal, the 
author will not say— he really does not pretend 
to know. Whether the pendants of poems that 
hang from them be diamonds, pearls, rubies, or 
worthless paste, how can he guarantee ? Liter- 
ary jewelry (if poetry may be so called) depends 
largely for its value upon the eyes that gaze upon 
it and the hearts that wear it. 

The real preface to this book is formed by those 
which have preceded it from the same author ; a 
like purpose actuates them all. But he takes 
another opportunity to thank his large family of 
readers for their continued faithfulness and loy- 
alty, and to assure them that he is still laboring 
to deserve their respect and affection. 

C. 



CONTENTS 



FIRST CHAIN— Including, 

PAGE 

Dialogues 3 

Legend Song 4 

The Sandal-maker of Babylon 9 

Farmer Stebbins Toboggans 14 

Diogenes' Daughter 20 

Farmer Stebbins at the Bat • .... 26 

Dionysius' Mirror 32 

Uncle Nate's Funeral 37 

SECOND CHAIN— Including, 

Dialogues 43 

The Hero of the Tower 49 

A Woman's Devotion ; or, True to Brother Spear . 58 
Twelve O'Clock : A Legend of Brooklyn \ . . .62 

THIRD CHAIN— Including, 

Dialogues 73 

Hymn of Thanksgiving 78 

The Voice of a Star ; or, The First Christmas Eve 80 

The Old Hymn-book 84 

The Pastor's Farewell 87 

The Convict's Christmas Eve 90 



Vlii CONTENTS 

FOURTH CHAIN— Including, 

PAGE 

Preludes ...... 99 

The Captain is Asleep 101 

The Vestal 104 

Song of the Unbuilt Ship 106 

The Serpent of the Still '. . . . 108 

FIFTH CHAIN— Including, 

Dialogues 113 

The Negro Funeral 115 

The Four Travellers 119 

The Earthquake Prayer . 123 

SIXTH CHAIN— Historical Drama. 

Scene I. — Benedict Arnold at Quebec . ' . . . .131 

Scene II. — At Philadelphia 134 

Scene III. — Near London 138 

SEVENTH CHAIN— Including, 

Dialogues 147 

Kidnapped in Mercy 153 

Lady Bountiful's Triumph. . . „ ..... . 160 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



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INTO THE BAY — THE GREAT, WIDE, WEALTH- 
FRINGED BAY " Frontispiece 

THE KING WITH A HUMOROUS SENSE". . . . Facing p. - IO 

WITH SOBER FACE, BUT EYES UPON THE BROAD- 
EST KIND OF GRIN " 

SIR, I AM YOUR DAUGHTER, IF YOU PLEASE " . 

PRODUCED AN UNFORESEEN RESULT .... 

AND THEY HAVE SCAMPERED FAR AND NEAR " . 

TRUE TO BROTHER SPEAR " 

. . . A FORM — OR WAS HE DREAMING?" . . . 

AND O'ER THEIR SHOULDERS HIS ARMS HE 
THREW" 

AN OPEN CHURCH DOOR SOME LOOK OF WEL- 
COME WORE " 

TENDER WORDS OF HIM ARE SAID" 

HE TWINES ABOUT HER TREMBLING LIFE " . 

AN' HE SAID, ' NOW DON' BE WEEPIN* FOR DIS 
PRETTY BIT o' CLAY ' " 

. . . WILL YOU REAP THIS FIELD OF GLORY ?". 

I HAVE NO FRIEND IN EARTH, OR HEAVEN, OR 
HELL" 

THERE'S MANY A GREEN LITTLE GRASS-MOUND " 



IS 
22 

30 
38 
58 

68 



94 
102 
no 

116 
132 



142 
152 



CITY LEGENDS 



FIRST CHAIN 



CITY LEGENDS 



ffirst Cbain 

Scene, a Farm-house Parlor. Various delegates from six /ami- 
lies are present. Storm - concert out in the darkness, and 
waves of snow drifting against the east windows. Large 
fireplace, full of forest-logs, gradually turning to flame-col- 
ored gold. 

EDITH (a blue-eyed girl). 
Tis Legend-night ; and all our club are here, 
Except the new school-master : who will come 
A little later. 

Isabel (a black-eyed girl). 

For he told you so? 

Edith {primly). 
He told us all so. While we wait for him, 
He said we should not merely wait, but work, 
And sing the Legend Song in our best style. 

Harry (a tall young man). 
The one he taught you ? 



4 CITY LEGENDS 

Edith {tartly). 

One he taught us all. 
He shows no partiality in school. 

{Quiet, incredulous laughter. 
David {a short, fat young man). 
Allow me, Edith, since he is not here, 
To lead you to the organ fearlessly. 

{Ripples of restrained laughter. All sing. 

LEGEND SONG 



Dreamy legends of the past, 
Sombre-hued or pleasant, 
Though by sun or cloud o'ercast, 

You display the present ! 
And the future you can see, 
For what was, again shall be ; 
Shadows far ahead you cast, 
Dreamy legends of the past ! 



ii 



Stirring legends of to-day, 
Draped in modern dresses, 

How you light the darksome way 
Of the past recesses ! 

Showing, as the age goes on, 

What men were in days agone ; 



FIRST CHAIN 5 

For, with inconsistence strange, 
Times may change, but never change. 

A knock at the outer door. Enter School-master, well 
covered with s?iow. All spring to meet him except 
Edith, who remains at the organ, studying the music. 

School -master {to the others, after glancing at 
Edith). 
Well, here I come ; still in the human form, 
Half-victim of a nineteenth-century blizzard; 
Yet wholly pleased ; because you have agreed 
That one night in the week you will devote 
To legends of the present and the past, 
Dropping those games, whose names I now forget — 

David {the fat young man, eagerly). 
Snap up and catch 'em, Charley can't catch me, 
Green grow the rushes, Oats peas beans and barley, 
Threading the needle, Jack-straws, blind-man's-buff, 
Going to Rome — 

All the girls. 

Enough ! enough ! the Legends ! 

Enter some Older People, timidly, and are given chairs 
by Mabel, a brown-eyed girl, and others. 

One of the Older People. 
Are we admitted to the company ? 

School-master. 
This is a game that every age can play. 
Now first let us go back to ancient times : 



6 CITY LEGENDS 

To some of those old cities of the past ; 
Those killed and buried cities of the past, 
And yet which live, as truly now as then. 

Squire Stout (a florid, middle-aged man). 
I've seen the pictures of them ruined towns, 
But noticed nothin' much, excep', perhaps, 
Some stone-piles, ditches, heaps of earth, an' things 
That looked like broken steeples out o' churches. 

School-master. 
And yet they live — those cities of the past: 
They were not burned — nor were they beaten down 
By the iron shoes of conquest ; lightning broke 
From its black floating jail of clouds, and dealt 
Hot, glistening blows upon them ; earthquakes came, 
And shook them by the throat ; tornadoes rushed 
In loud, swift journeys, through the staggering streets, 
And crowded them with coffins ; rot and sloth, 
Corruption, Hate, Greed, War, and blear-eyed Lust 
Have been disastrous citizens; until 
The cities seemed to sink, corpse-like, in earth. 
And yet they live, old cities of the past. 

Squire STOUT. 
I s'pose perhaps that's true ; it sounds like print ; 
But I don't seem to catch the meaning on't. 

School-master. 
Those walls and domes their people, blindly built, 
Were naught except thin shells, round city-souls ; 
The mounds where we for treasures grope and search. 
Are cemeteries, holding their crushed bones. 
Two forms have all things ; that which cannot live, 
And that which cannot die. 



FIRST CHAIN 7 

Squire STOUT. 

Too deep for me. 

School-master. 
They live in many worlds. On History's plains, 
Their towers still camp beneath the bright - eyed 

sun. 
The student's lamp illumes their sombre streets, 
The architect is measuring up their walls, 
The merchant knows the tonnage of their ships, 
The history-general fights their battles o'er, 
The theologian trims their temple-fires, 
And delves among their creeds, both false and 
true ; 

Squire Stout {aside). 
We did not hire the teacher, I'll be bound, 
To go round nights, and spout such stuff as this. 

School-master (continuing). 
They live among the hills of poesy. 
The artist throws their ancient colors on 
The hungry regions of his canvas page; 
The weird romancer, with sharp-pointed pen 
That pricks the veins of human nature dry, 
Has brought them, in Imagination's ships, 
Real men and women, gathered from all lands 
And times — and mingled by his wizard touch. 
The poet says that fancy, love, and hate, 
With kiss of velvet or with tread of iron, 
Once walked the pavement of those minds and hearts. 

Squire STOUT {aside). 
Oh, poetry be hanged : it never ploughed 
A field, or mowed an acre of marsh-grass. 



8 CITY LEGENDS 

School-master {continuing). 
Perhaps they are in Future-land ; where those 
Who lived in them a while, now live for aye. 
Perchance, among their memory-household wares, 
They bore away mind-pictures of the towns — 
The old half-loved, half-hated towns of earth. 
Do they not often build, in that long dream — 
So vivid that it makes this fleet-paced life — 
But half-remembered — seem itself a dream — 
The cherished walls and towers of ancient times? 
Exiles from home, they drag home after them ; 
And in their' memory the old cities live. 

Squire Stout {aside, yawning). 
I'd drag myself home, if it wasn't so cold. 

School-master {continuing). 
Now tell us tales, old cities of the past ! 
Give us some stories of your short earth-life! 
Tell us some ancient legends, that may be 
Both like and unlike to the present days. 
Furnish some useful lesson, that The Past— 
That famed professor of all sciences — 
May teach us, from his century-woven chair ! 

Forth from the heaped - up mounds that mark the 

throne 
Where that great city-king called Babylon 
Reigned for a thousand years — a spectre walks, 
Telling us many legends of old times ; 
And one of them breathes nineteenth-century air, 
Aided by one of us, who'll voice his story. 
Harry {the tall 'young man) reads : 



FIRST CHAIN 9 

THE SANDAL-MAKER OF BABYLON 

He was rather a picturesque old man, upon a pettily 

complex plan, 
With grim ability, never hid, to superintend what 

others did, 
And state— an effort's race being run— how things that 

were done should have been done. 
Naught e'er was made but he could tell how he could 

have made it twice as well ; 
Naught e'er destroyed but he would bet that he could 

have smashed it finer yet. 
And this erratum of mankind sat, all day, a moral and 

mental cat, 
And threw the claws of his intellect at every merit 

and defect, 
And into the palace and the cot, and into what men 

were and were not, 
And into the deeds they struggled through, and into 

the things they failed to do, 
Using the most uncalled-for cares with other people 

and their affairs, 
And viewed, with a supercilious smile, the work of the 

world ; and made, meanwhile, 
The poorest sandals under the sun— the sandal-maker 

of Babylon. 

No one was ever, since earth began, religious enough 

to please this man ; 
No one to the gods e'er bowed a knee, that could 

have done it so low as he ; 



IO CITY LEGENDS 

The tower of Belus itself, he thought, if men had 

builded it as they ought, 
Had been much pleasanter to the eye, and several 

hundred times as high. 
He knew just how it came to pass that Nebuchad- 
nezzar was fed with grass; 
Could he have only had his way, the monarch's feed 

should have been of hay. 
In fact, no person, high or low, had fault to conceal or 

merit to show, 
But he could figure it to a notch, and hold it up for 

the world to watch. 
And yet, withal, his moral gait was that of a deep old 

reprobate, 
Full of fool-actions shrewdly done — the sandal-maker 

of Babylon. 

No man was better able to tell how dead men might 

be living and well. 
He knew the parts of the human frame, and every 

organ he called by name ; 
A theory of his own had he that man wasn't made as 

he ought to be ; 
Could have creation by him been done, the job would 

have been a better one : 
No ill to mankind ever came but he had remedies for 

the same, 
But never a word about them said until the suffering 

man was dead. 
And yet, in spite of his mental wealth, he never had 

any kind of health ; 




if 

Mfe/ 



FIRST CHAIN II 

The sickliest creature under the sun was the sandal- 
maker of Babylon. 

You'd think, to hear him talk, that he invented money 

itself. He'd see 
The gone -by chances of every trade — how every bar- 
gain should have been made ; 
He'd tell the rich why they were so ; the poor, why 

they were not ; could show 
How even the king's great national purse might have 

been managed better or worse ; 
Yet had he one financial lack : he might be kicked to 

Susa and back, 
And not a coin of any shape from his habiliments 

would escape : 
Wealth always had contrived to shun the sandal-maker 

of Babylon. 

But he began, unlucky elf, at criticising the king himself ; 

And so his head, as one might say, endangered even 
itself one day; 

For soon the king, with a humorous sense, requested 
of him an audience ; 

And said, " I have heard you cannot live beneath such 
government as I give : 

There's no necessity for the same, and no one but our- 
selves to blame. 

So, sage of the lapstone, do not grieve : I will give you 
every chance to leave ; 

This gallows you shall be hanged upon, O sandal- 
maker of Babylon." 



12 CITY LEGENDS 

The engine of death the old man scanned, and mur- 
mured, in accents soft and bland, 

" Well, hang, if it does you any good ; but I want it 
expressly understood 

That were this gallows made by me, a deadlier weapon 
it would be. 

I go to the other world ; no doubt things over there 
need straightening out." 

The monarch laughed and lightly said, "You'd be a 
nuisance, alive or dead. 

Go back to your stall and pound away, and think your 
thinkings and say your say." 

"A foolish plan you have hit upon," said the sandal- 
maker of Babylon. 

And never again the old man stayed one happy day 
at his double trade; 

" I do not like to retain my head by anybody's per- 
mit," he said. 

"If king were I and I the king, I couldn't have spared 
him for anything." 

And slow and surely, day by day, he lost his vigor and 
pined away ; 

They found him lying dead alone — sad sandal - maker 
of Babylon. 

And even now throughout this earth (I tell the story 

for what 'tis worth) 
They say his restless spirit runs, and makes its home 

with various ones. 



FIRST CHAIN 13 

Few families are so happy they have not a visit from 
him some day ; 

Few towns so blessed with fortune's smile that he 
doesn't live there for a while; 

He will rind fault till earth is done — crank sandal- 
maker of Babylon. 

Grandfathc?- Bell (a tall, straight, zl< ell - aged gentle- 
man}. 
Just like the old school-master, George X. Jones, 
Down at the Corners. 

Elder STARR (a large man of middle r. 
Just like Old Deacon Growlett, in our church. 

Miss Pryde {a tall, bright-eyed spinster), 
Just like old Miss Bakerre, the milliner. 

School-master {aside). 
Just like my school director. 

[Aloud] We come now 

(Since contrasts often light each other up) 
To present times, and one who lives to-day ; 
Whose nature is as clear as summer skies, 
And simple as a baby's ; but whose nerves 
So tremble with ambition, that he jumps 
From one scrape to another.— We will have 
Read by Miss Mabel's clear and flute-like voice, 

Edith (aside). 
Miss Mabel's clear and flute-like voice, indeed. 

SCHOOL-M ASTER (COHttHUtng). 

A letter from our good and cumbrous friend, 
Old Farmer Stebbins; telling his mishaps 
In dealing with that modern city craze, 
The swift toboggan slide. 



14 CITY LEGENDS 

Mabel reads : 

FARMER STEBBINS TOBOGGANS 

Rochester, February 28 

Dear Cousin John : 

I got here safe, uncommonly alone, 

An' walked the streets in head-up style quite willin' to 

be known ; 
With all the triumph in my eyes of one who works 

an' waits, 
An' in my overcoat a pair of first-class roller skates ; 
An', anxious out of glory's well a bucketful to drink, 
I never stopped until I reached that same old skating 

rink. 

For ever since the fearful night* I wrote about be- 
fore 

I've swathed up safe an' practised sly upon my granary 
floor; 

I tumbled till it sagged the joists, but persevered an' 
beat, 

An' skated like a critter born with casters on its feet ; 

An' now I says, " These swells will learn — what my 
best neighbors know — 

That, when he all unwinds himself, Old Stebbins ain't 
so slow." 

* Referring to his troubles in the skating rink, detailed in 
"City Ballads," where may also be found others of Farmer 
Stebbins' adventures. 



FIRST CHAIN r c 

But when I reached that festive place, 'twas locked 
up, I declare, 

An' everything was desolate-like, an' not a soul was 
there ! 

While on the door a brand-new sign said : " Stand up 
for the Right! 

Salvation Army holds this fort ! Prayer-meeting everv 
night!" s y 

I asked where all the skaters was; a passin' boy re- 
plied, 

"Rink's bu'st; they're all a-takin' in the new toboggan- 
slide !" && 

"Ah me!" I said; "the same old game! It's 'one 
go all go sheep !' " 

Then started off to find the place as fast as I could 
creep ; 

For, though I criticise my race, I can't help but be- 
long; 

An' soon I found myself within the same old giddy 
throng. 

But now they played at down an' up, instead of roun' 
an' roun', 

An' skated somewhat like I did the night that I fell 
down. 

An' some was dressed in usual style-the same as any 
one — 

An' some had nightcaps, red an' blue, an' small bed- 
blankets on ; 



1 6 CITY LEGENDS 

An' some rode head-first on their chins, an' some sat 

stiff an' still, 
An' 'twasn't unlike the good old times we used to ride 

down-hill. 
(But all through life I've noticed, 'mongst girls, women, 

boys, an' men — 
This climbin' up to some large height, to be pushed 

down again !) 

As I thus mused, who should come up the easy, stair- 
cased slopes, 

But my old young true treacherous friend, Miss Is'bel 
Sunnyhopes ! 

Who's got me into more small scrapes than any girl 
on earth, 

An' always helped me out again, with tender-seasoned 
mirth ; 

But everything looked safe-like as she fluttered to my 
side, 

And said, "My dear friend ! — is it you? — do come and 
have a slide !" 

She borrowed from a smart young man — a fellow that 

she knew — 
A han'-sled with the runners gone — just big enough 

for two ; 
They'd rode in partnership, it seems ; an' he gave up 

his place, 
With something that wasn't quite content upon his 

lengthenin' face ; 



FIRST CHAIN I J 

An' off we flew, with speed that shocked an' made me 
almost blind, 

Fast as that first tobogganer — the foeman of man- 
kind. 



We went straight down, an' clim' back safe; an' no 

mishap had known, 
If I had heard cold Reason say, " Let well enough 

alone." 
But Isabel's young fellow looked as sour as sour could 

be, 
An' just as if he'd like to make a mince -pie out of 

me ; 
An' so I says, " I'll lengthen still this young man's 

underlip," 
And turned to Isabel an' said, " Let's take another 

trip." 

The second ride I gave a glance at two small boards 

that lay 
On edge to keep us sliders in the straight an' narrow 

way ; 
My eyes was sort of misted like, I lost or lent my 

head, 
An' grabbed these boards, supposin' them a portion of 

the sled ; 
I stopped off; an' the sleigh went on, an' left me, in a 

trice, 
A-hangin' there with nothin' much betwixt me an' the 

ice. 



l8 CITY LEGENDS 

"Hold on!" "Let go!" "Climb up!" "Slide down!" 

I heard the people roar: 
I didn't know which one not to do, an' so I tried all 

four. 
I kicked an' grabbed an' clim an' clawed, an' felt from 

foot to scalp 
As if I was in Switzerland a-hangin' to an Alp ; 
My skates hopped out an' skittered off like boys let 

clear of school 
(First time they'd ever run without an old bald-headed 

fool) ! 

My hat an' specs skipped clean away, as if they'd 

caught the craze, 
An' been a-longin' for this chance for several nights 

and days ; 
Three apples an' five doughnuts, an' a purchased 

bakery bun, 
All tried the new toboggan-slide, an' went down, one 

by one ; 
An' as for me — as some girls say, in that "brook" song 

they sing, 
I " slipped an' slid an' gloomed an' glanced," an' grabbed 

at everything. 

An' finally I twisted round, head-foremost on my back, 
An' went down like a lightnin' train that's just run 

off the track, 
An' reached the bottom of the hill within a little while, 
Then rolled an' scooted somethin' like a quarter of a 

mile ; 




"WITH SOBER FACE, BUT EYES UPON THE BROADEST 
KIND OF GRIN " 



FIRST CHAIN 19 

An' when I gathered up, unhurt, but awful unattired, 
I felt some like the vvaddin' of a shot-gun lately fired. 

Then Isabel came softly up, with Pity's soothin' 
charms, 

An' all of my lost property scooped in her han'some 
arms, 

An' re'lly hoped I wasn't hurt — and handed me a pin — 

With sober face, but eyes upon the broadest kind of 
grin ; 

And then her fellow came, and made a show of help- 
in' me ; 

But that 'ere underlip of his was short as short could 
be. 

An' then I turned, an' said " Good-bye " to all the peo- 
ple round ; 

" My friends, I'm out of place again ; on more than 
slippery ground ! 

This goin' back upon their age is what no one should 
do; 

It's hard to play the fine young man an' be an old one 
too. 

Farewell to rinks an' slides while days aroun' me slip 
an' roll ! 

I'll spend the spare time after this on my immortal 
soul." 

David {the short, fat young man). 
I'd like to know that Is'bel Sunnyhopes : 
I'll bet she's "up to snuff." 



20 CITY LEGENDS 

Isabel {the black-eyed girl, aside, sniffing, half scorn- 
■ fully). . 

Yes, just about. 

Mr. ILLS {an obese, elderly gentleman). 
This Mr. Stebbins, I should calculate, 
Is just like old Tim Gosport, on the hill. 

Mrs. Ills {aside). 
He's just like you. 

School-master. 

Now we again will go 
Back till we reach the temple-guarded hills 
Of ancient Greece : Miss Edith here has found 
A legend of that old philosopher 
Diogenes, which she will read to us. 

Edith {aside). 
Though not in Mabel's clear and flute-like voice. 

Reads : 



DIOGENES DAUGHTER 

There is a legend that Diogenes, 

Old pachyderm, once, basking in the sun, 
Scolding the lazy, lying at his ease, 

And peddling wisdom-loaflets underdone, 
Saw suddenly a fair-haired maiden pass; 

And, his digestion being good that day, 
He took a new, strange fancy to the lass, 

And even followed her a little way, 
And asked her heart ; which she, with mind obtuse, 
Gave over to him, like a little goose. 



FIRST CHAIN 21 

For even his grimness had a fascination ; 

And, though no ladies' man, yet he could fire 
The average female heart with admiration, 

Being so unlike what they should admire. 
And he had strong brain, and could "govern men," 

And hence win women ; and she had a pride 
To draw the glum old bachelor from his den, 

And be known as a famous person's bride ; 
Besides, good women's hearts will often move 
With love for men they do not half approve. 

Whether she lived, there is no need to ask ; 

For he was soon a beastlier beast than ever, 
And growled at her full many a tasteless task, 

Beyond a woman's possible endeavor. 
He wanted her to share his tub with him ; 

To carry lanterns for him through the street, 
When, with dishonest eyes by pride made dim, 

He strove the unknown Honest Man to meet; 
And to agree, when that same man was found, 
To look the other way or on the ground. 

She died, and he, in first-class cynic style, 

Forgot her, with serene self-contemplation, 
Frowned at the world through his sardonic smile, 

And went on making rules for all creation ; 
Forgot the sweet girl baby that his wife 

Coaxed out of heaven and left on earth for him ; 
And strangers had to feed her simple life, 

While he went on, keeping the world in trim. 



22 CITY LEGENDS 

(He's not the last man who, to wail and preach, 
Has left his children in the devil's reach.) 

But she grew good and pure ; and as a child 

Felt strangely drawn unto the strange old man 
Who walked the streets like to a brute half wild, 

Or sat majestic while his mean tongue ran ; 
But when she was eighteen she learned the truth ; 

And walked up to him with half-awkward ease, 
And with the blushing bashfulness of youth . 

Said, "Sir, I am your daughter, if you please." 
And, his digestion being good that day, 
He let the pretty girl lead him away. 

She took him to her home — a fairy bower — 

She petted him, she groomed his crazy hair, 
She ruled him with her weak and tender power, 

She soothed out his belligerent despair ; 
She brought real feeling to his numb old heart, 

She charmed him with her sweet and winsome glee, 
She gently pried his mental shell apart, 

And grasped the pearls that gave him agony; 
While her friends said, " Just teach him common-sense, 
And we'll be glad to stand the whole expense." 

She made him see that life was something more 
Than crouching like a beast beneath the sun ; 

He came to praise the dainty robes she wore, 
And have some care what he himself put on ; 

He saw that honest goods, instead of pelf, 
Were symbols bright of industry and power ; 



"' 






^NGb. 



"SIR, I AM YOUR DAUGHTER, IF YOU PLEASE" 



FIRST CHAIN 23 

That there was something else besides one's self 
To fill the minutes of life's quick-spent hour; 
She made the sage less picturesque and keen, 
But several times as happy and as clean. 

And he was coming very fast to be 

A loving father — full of thrift's strong charm ; 
Till one sad morn, his daughter, full of glee, 

Came to him with a young man arm-in-arm, 
And cheeks that blushed like pearl-white clouds ca- 
ressing 

The warm, magnetic, love-charged sun above, 
And said, " O father ! give your god-strown blessing 

On him and me! for, father, I'm in love!" 
While the young man, half earnest, half ashamed, 
Knelt with her for the blessing that she claimed. 

Diogenes was slightly thunderstruck ; 

And, his digestion being bad that day, 
He rose and howled, " Hot curses on the luck ! 

This selfish world runs all the self-same way ! 
You said you loved me, and I did not doubt ; 

Instead of which you take this homely chub, 
Admit him to your heart, and turn me out : 

Oh, never mind! I'll move back to the tub! 
Give me my lantern ! let me go ! I vow 
I'll search the world for honest women, now !" 

She twined her soft arms round his stubborn feet, 
She prayed him with her hands, her eyes, her 
lips; 



24 CITY LEGENDS 

Strove the dear, dreadful exigence to meet, 
And show him that 'twas not a love-eclipse ; 

She said, " O father, know that you are still 
All the world to me ! but I have discovered 

Another world : I have two hearts to fill ; 

But I adore you more !" and then she hovered 

Deftly between the young man and the old, 

Who formed a contrast striking to behold. 

" Befriend me, O my father, for I need 

Much more now your protection ! I am just 
A poor, weak girl, whose only strength, indeed, 

Is all with others — is her love and trust. 
I cannot live without you ; this sweet man 

Has won my heart, but not away from yours ; 
He crowds me nearer to you ; 'tis the plan 

The gods have made; 'tis why the race endures. 
The passion-waves that through me surge and dart 
Sink deeper still your love into my heart. 

" My love has not division, but increase ; 

O father, listen to me ! do not move 
Your cherished face away ; my life must cease, 

In this new life of love, without your love. 
For my sweet mother's sake — whose heart stood still 

In its first glow of greeting for me — listen ! 
Your form my woman's fancy yet shall fill ; 

Your dear eyes in my heart's eyes e'er shall glisten; 
And all I ask, father whom I adore, • 
Is only just one husband, and no more !" 



FIRST CHAIN 



25 



And here the legend stops ; I cannot prove 

How it turned out ; but if I judge aright. 
The mean old idiot trampled on her love 

With the iron shoes of jealousy and spite. 
At least I learn that he was every bit 

A cynic, at near eighty, when his dim 
Old soul left earth, which, though he hated it, 

He lived in longer than it wanted him. 
Like some to-day, he gave this world a curse, 
Because he could not have the universe. 

Grandmother Smith {a sweet but hard-headed old lady). 
A mean, old, selfish, undeserving brute. 

Old Mr. Adams (Edith's father). 
Tis very strange that any man should step 
With his own selfish fancy, pride, or spleen, 
Betwixt his daughter and her happiness. 

School-master {aside, glancing at Mr. Adams and 
Edith). 
Curious, indeed. These legends will not hit 
The targets they are aimed at. Oh, the coats— 
The neatly fitted coats, that hang upon 
The hall-racks of man's nature, waiting long- 
Waiting in vain— for him to put them on! 

[Aloud] 
Now, with renewed attention, let us hear 
Another of old Farmer Stebbins' wails, 
Uttered last summer, when that modern craze, 
Baseball, was driving all the nation wild. 

Harry {the tall young man). 
Baseball !— the king of all our manly sports! 



26 CITY LEGENDS 

Isabel {the black-eyed girl). 
Baseball ! another man-made tournament, 
Where woman views the skill and strength of man. 

Squire Stout. 
Baseball ! — a mighty killin' waste o' time. 

Grandmother Smith {the sweet but hard- headed old 
lady). 
Baseball ! the bosom friend of heart-disease 
And enemy of whole and shapely hands. 

Harry {hastily concealing a damaged knuckle). 
Who reads the Stebbins letter? 

School-master. 

David, here. 
David {the short, fat young man). 



FARMER STEBBINS AT THE BAT 

Brooklyn, July 5 

Dear Brother John : 

We got here safe, my good old wife an' me, 

An' then I strolled out to the Park, to see what I 

could see. 
Some fellows there was playin* ball — an' with a waggish 

smile 
One chap inquired of me if / wouldn't like to play a 

while ; 
For I'd made some remarks about the way the game 

was run, 
An' maybe I'd take hold, he said, an' show 'em how 

'twas done. 



FIRST CHAIN 27 

I used to play, some years ago, when youth still lin- 
gered near, 

Before three hundred pounds of meat impaired my 
runnin' gear ; 

An' so I said, "All right, I'm in ; I'll give the ball a 
whack, 

For I don't like to have old age invite me to stan' 
back " ; 

An' then I spoke up to'm an' said, with quite a limber 
tongue, 

" I'll show you how we used to play when your old 
dads was young." 

"Of course you'll stan' up to the rules?" the waggish 

chap inquired ; 
"An' will you pitch or catch?" Says I, "I'll catch, if 

so desired." 
An' then they brought a muzzle out an' strapped it to 

my head, 
To keep my mug from gettin' scraped by some one's 

bat, they said. 
But I didn't mind; I says, "All right; just trim me up 

complete, 
Providin' you don't tie no wires aroun' my hands nor 

feet." 

But when I caught their pesky ball, I yelled out with 

a groan, 
" Good sakes alive ! I didn't suppose you played it with 

a stone !" 



28 CITY LEGENDS 

Then they all laughed, and says, " Of course this ain't 

no one-old-cat !" 
An' laughed again when I remarked, " I'm sensible of 

that ; 
But when we used to play baseball we wouldn't have 

thought 'twas smart 
To pelt each other with a chunk of old King Pharaoh's 

heart !" 

Then they all laughed again, an' said I'd better take 
the field ; 

An' I remarked, " I'm used to that " (a fact quite un- 
concealed) ; 

An' so I toddled off, an' stood, without a word to say, 

Until " a hot ball," as they said, came boilin' down my 
way ; 

It landed somewhere on my frame, uncommon hard 
an' square, 

An' I laid down, reached up my han's, an' wildly clasped 
it there. 

An' then they laughed an' cheered, an' said I'd "caught 

it on the fly." 
" I caught it on my stomach, if I'm any judge," says I. 
An' then they laughed an' cheered some more, an' 

said, "Our side is in,. 
An' it is our turn at the bat, an' your turn to begin." 
An' then I grasped the ball - club tight, an' says unto 

them all, 
" I'll show you how to treat a hard an' unregenerate 

ball." 



FIRST CHAIN 2Q 

The fellow that propelled the thing wouldn't throw it 
square an' straight ; 

He'd give a sort of cow -like kick, an' pitch it like a 
quoit; 

So when I struck, with my whole firm of muscle, brain, 
an' heart, 

The fierce blow found the ball an' club some several 
foot apart ; 

An' leanin' up, an' strikin' 'gainst the atmosphere in- 
stead, 

Produced an unforeseen result, an' stood me on my 
head. 



" Strike one !" the fellow that they call the "emperor" 

loudly cried. 
"It's full as much as that," I says, a- perchin' on my 

side. 
" Play ball !" he shouted. An' I says, " It ain't so much 

like play 
As some things I have seen ; but then, no matter ; fire 



away 



An' so he fired; whereat the ball benumbed each fin- 
ger's-end, 

Then cuffed my sufferin' ears, like some enraged ma- 
ternal friend. 



" Foul !" shouted loud the emperor, then, in accents 

loud an' high. 
"You're right again; it's foul indeed, an' painful too," 

says I : 



30 CITY LEGENDS 

An' then I thought, " I'll wipe that ball half-way out 
of existence, 

Or lay right down here an' expire, with mourners at a 
distance." 

An' straightenin' back, I gave the thing a self-benumb- 
in' blow, 

An' sent it wobblin' through the air; an' then they 
shouted, " Go !" 

Now I was kind of turned around 'bout where I might 
belong, 

An' nimble as an elephant, I struck my bearin's 
wrong ; 

I stood the emperor on his head, I run the catcher 
down, 

I barked my waggish friend's left shin, before he turned 
me roun' ; 

An' then he yelled, " Pick up your heels !" an' fool- 
bewildered quite, 

I stopped an' looked, an' said, " They're here ! I've 
got 'em on all right !" 

An' then they laughed an' cheered some more, an' said, 
" Go ! make your base !" 

An' off I went, with quickened breath, an' heat - illu- 
mined face ; 

I gave no heed unto the world ; but, thunderin' straight 
ahead, 

Produced an earthquake in that Park by my resistless 
tread ; 



FIRST CHAIN 31 

An' then I stubbed my off big toe, an' hadn't time to 

rise, 
An' rolled three-quarters of the way, to my base, and 

surprise. 

"Out on a fly!" the emperor says, a- brushin' off his 

sleeve. 
" Out on a bender, I should think," I says, prepared to 

leave ; 
"This game has too much earnestness to make it play 

for me ; 
It's full of hardship for to do, however nice to see. 
The easiest way to play baseball, is just to sit an' tell 
How things you never could have done could be done 

twice as well." 

Then Sister Is'bel Sunnyhopes, to my intense surprise, 
Drove up an' took me in, with tears an' laughter in her 

eyes : 
" Miss Isabel," I humbly said. " it always seems to me, 
The bigger fool I make myself, the more you're there 

to see. 
I'll furnish you with candy all the rest your nat'ral life, 
If you won't pick this picnic up, an' take it to my 

wife." 

School-master. 
I trust henceforth our good but green old friend 
May stay where balls will miss him. But one tale 
Reminds us of another (although how, 
I cannot quite explain ; we do not see 



32 CITY LEGENDS 

All of the gold or leaden links that bind 
Our many thoughts together). 

I will read 
A legend of old Sicily's Syracuse. 
Reads : 

DIONYSIUS' MIRROR 

Old King Dionysius, insanely ambitious, 

Who stabled his prisoners en masse, 
And (their sufferings to hear) built a great prison-ear. 

Thus embalming himself as an ass ; 
Contentless with hearing the words which, unfearing, 

His sufferers treated him to, 
And which, unrestrained, very likely contained 

More truth than he cared to pull through ; 

Called up a magician, of high-born position, 

And said, with a cold, cruel grin, 
" Now build me a mirror, much stronger and clearer 

Than any that ever has been. 
Of methods make use, that will quick reproduce 

Every scene that its surface may hold ; 
The forms and the features of all of these creatures 

And all they have done, shall be told." 

This high-born magician, with skilful ambition 

(The world had its arts in those days, 
And "magic" is science concealed in appliance), 

Proceeded the mirror to raise. 



FIRST CHAIN 33 

Twas silver well burnished ; and silently furnished 

The pictures that came to its eyes ; 
And the place in a minute, to those who were in it, 

Seemed wondrously doubled in size. 

Its woes, too, were doubled ; and they who were 
troubled 
With sickness and hunger and pain. 
Felt needlessly shocked, and their sufferings mocked 

By a levity brutal and vain. 
Such infamous " mercies," they thanked with their 
curses ; 
Such "luxuries" wakened their ire; 
Of the gods they implored that the king might be 
stored 
In a mirror-walled prison of fire. 

Slow or fleetly, at last, but a year had gone past, 

When a general order there came, 
That this wonderful mirror — this optical sneerer — 

Be moved from its rock-girded frame. 
The tablet of malice was borne to the palace. 

And met by the tyrant's best sneer, 
Who said to his court, " We will see, for our sport, 

What the rascals have done for a year." 

Then the noted magician, with skill and precision 
(For science was known in those days, 

And arts have been lost, as we know to our cost), 
Uncovered the view to their gaze. 



34 CITY LEGENDS 

But a sight of such woe as may few ever know, 

Came forth on the silvery sheen; 
Such terror-strewn languor, such pain-sharpened anger, 

Had ne'er in a palace been seen! 

No look of despair but displayed itself there; 

No sorrow but stepped out to view; 
No terrible death but here drew its last breath; 

No horror was ever more true. 
But each pain-harrowed lace bent its look to one 
place ; 
All curses one way seemed, to turn; 
And the guests, past surprise, raised their horrified 
eyes, 

The Cause Of such hate to discern. 

Not yet. 'Twas not seen. But the silvery sheen 

Showed pictures more terribly new ; 
Fierce serpents untwined from the heart and the mind 

Of the wretches that crowded in view; 
Black demons of hate crept like creatures of fate 

With tongues that were forked and red; 

All crept to one place ; and the guests sought to 
trace 
Where 'twas that the reptiles had lied. 

Not vet. "Twas not seen. But there came, sharp and 
keen. 

From above, blinding lightnings of wrath ; 
They swept down below, as to see the dread woe, 
'Then Hashed o\\ the same upward path. 



Ill I'll I 






" Mr. i h< god . turn i he lui k ol whomi ■■• i I hai if i u< i. !" 

! iaid i hi gui I . m ai ly frenzii d wii h feai , 
v. they gazi d, full oi dread, at i he mystei y o'ei head, 
To w 1 1 in . . i he vi< i mi appi ai 

Nol yet, I rom beneat h living bladi b oi I he iheai h 

I 'i I [ade .. i in- i. padded wii h flame 
Rose devil . < -I fire, hall in spoi i . hall in ire, 

And ■' owled at some objeci i »i shame 
I hey ni'.i loned to him, wii h ap< gi ima< i ■ gi im, 

And meaningly pointi d b< low, 
Aa i" say, " 'Twill nol be very long, ere you 

Whal oui gi mi hospitalil ies Bhow." 

"Raise the Bcreenl raise the screen, and display the 
whole B( ene '" 
Said the i yrant, wii h hall i rembling gli - 
' Let us view i ii.ii unknown, with bui h hoi i m 
.1 rown . 
vVoi Bl pi isonei ol all he mu ii be I" 
The magician, feai pale, slowly drew back the. veil, 

And i here, 'mid his pala< e's pi If, 
With his eai to 1 he E ar, and his fai «• w hite with 
fear, 
Was old l 'i' >ri) tiii . him icll ' 

" I freak ■ he ion erous iiai ! Mell it up wii h whiti 

in.- 1" 

Veiled i he I yram , in frenzied dismay, 
I' was done , bui bi ill i here, on I he wall i of 1 he ail 
( ame the picture, by nighl and by -i. 



36 CITY LEGENDS 

And no doubt when he stood 'mid the bad and .the 
good, 

His lot for the future to draw, 
In the record of shame that was marked with his name, 

That scene of the mirror he saw. 

Squire Stout. 
By George ! that never happened in this world. 

Grandmother Smith. 
I think it is a sort of parable. 

School-master. 
Our deeds— our thoughts — our feelings — all are cast 
In mirror-pictures, that shall never fade. 
Oft by Fate's touch — oft'ner by our own acts — 
The veil will rise, and show us what we are — 
What we have been — what we through self must be. 
And oft in pictures where we think to view 
Others well sketched, is our own image seen ! 

Squire Stout {aside). 
We do not pay the teacher, I'll be bound, 
To loaf about and spout such stuff as this. 

Grandmother Smith. 
Forgive me if I think the legends told 
Thus far have been somewhat unanimous 
Against old men — whom, as a rule, I like 
(Perhaps because I liked them while still young). 
But will you hear a legend now, cf one 
Who lived within the suburbs of a small 
Old inland city that I used to know, 
And who, I think, will preach that some old men 
Are kindly, generous, true, and sensible? 



FIRST CHAIN 37 

Reads ; 

UNCLE NATE'S FUNERAL 

'Twas not at all like those you see of ordinary men; 
'Twas such as never could occur, excepting now and 

then. 
For Uncle Nate had studied hard upon it, night and day, 
And planned it all— while yet alive — in his peculiar way. 
" I've managed other men's remains," he said, in quiet 

tone, 
"And now I'll make a first-class try to regulate my 

own." 
And so, a month before his death, he wrote the details 

down, 
For friends to print, when he was dead, and mail 

throughout the town. 

The paper said: "I've figured close, and done the best 

I knew, 
To have a good large funeral, when this shortish life 

was through ; 
I've thought about it night and day, I've brooded o'er 

the same, 
Until it almost seemed a task to wait until it came. 
Especially as my good wife has wandered on ahead, 
And all the children we possessed have many years 

been dead ; 
And now I'll tell you what I want my friends and foes 

to do — 
I'm sorry that I can't be here to push the matter 

through : 



38 CITY LEGENDS 

" I do not want to hire a hearse, with crape around it 

thrown : 
I'm social like, and am not used to riding round 

alone. 
Bring my old wagon, into which the children used to 

climb, 
Until I've taken on a drive full twenty at a time : 
We've loafed along the country roads for many pleas- 
ant hours, 
And they have scampered far and near, and picked the 

freshest flowers : 
And I would like to have them come, upon my burial 

day, 
And ride with me, and talk to me, and sing along the 

way. 

"I want my friend the minister — the best of preacher- 
folks, 
With whom I've argued, prayed, and wept, and swapped 

a thousand jokes — 
To talk a sermon to the friends, and make it sweet, 

but strong ; 
And, recollect, I don't believe in speeches over-long. 
And tell him, notwithstanding all his eloquence and 

worth, 
'Twon't be the first time I have slept when he was 

holding forth. 
I'd like two texts ; and one shall be by Bible covers 

pressed, 
And one from outside, that shall read ' He did his level 

best.' 




"AND THEY HAVE SCAMPERED FAR AND NEAR " 



FIRST CHAIN 



39 



" And any one I've given help— to comfort or to save- 
Just bring a flower, or sprig of green, and throw it in 

the grave. 
Please have a pleasant, social time round the sub- 
scriber's bier, 
And no one but my enemies must shed a single tear. 
You simply say, « Old Uncle Nate, whatever may befall, 
Is having probably to-day the best time of us all ! 
He's shaking hands, two at a clip, with several hun- 
dred friends, 
And giving us who stay behind good gilt-edged rec- 
ommends !' " 

They tried to follow all the rules that Uncle Nate laid 

down : 
When he was dead they came to him from every house 

in town. 
The children did their best to sing, but could not quite 

be heard ; 
The parson had a sermon there, but did not speak a word. 
Of course they buried him in flowers, and kissed him 

as he lay, 
For not a soul in all that town but he had helped 

some way ; 
But when they tried to mould his mound without the 

tear-drop's leaven, 
There rose loud sobs that Uncle Nate could almost 

hear in heaven. 

[Clock strikes twelve. Company rise and disperse 
in silence, for they all knew Uncle Nate. 



SECOND CHAIN 



SeconD Cbaln 

Scene, the front parlor of a city residence. It is prettily and 
daintily furnished. Bows of ribbon adorn almost everything, 
excepting a young gentleman who has called. Conspicuous 
among the pictures on the walls are those of a nice old lady 
and gentleman, who look as if they might be the grandfather 
and grandmother of some young lady. Enter a young lady, 
seats herself at friendly but respectful distance from the 
young gentleman, and gazes at him doubtingly. 

ETHEL {the young lady). 
You say you love me ; but how do I know 

That all of the scattered words you send 
Bring truth with them? the tongue may glow 

With thoughts that leap from a friend to a friend, 
Or fly with Fancy's mottled wing; 
But Love, dear friend, is a sacred thing. 
Love is not tinsel, silver, or gold : 

It is a fragment of Heaven's own gate, 

Broken in halves by God's hand, Fate, 
And given two kindred spirits bold, 

Who would colonize in our Earth unknown : 

Tis whispered them, "You may be thrown 



44 



CITY LEGENDS 



Far apart; be passion-whirled 
To different sides of that dizzy world ; 
But search for each other, far and near, 
With a painful hope and a joyful fear. 
Search, through fair or stormy weather, 

Until the halves of this broken gem 
Cling and clasp and weld together, 

With the power that attracted them. 
Then shall be bartered Love's true token ; 
Then shall The Heart's Password be spoken." 
Dearest of comrades, how can I know 

That yours is the soul that is seeking mine, 
Until the gems to each other glow — 

Until you speak the words divine ? 

[ The portrait of the young lady's grandmother 
upon the wall seems to smile approvingly at 
this speech ; that of her grandfather has a 
somewhat puzzled look. 

FlTZ Clintonne (the young man, bashfully, and some- 
what awkwardly). 
Yes, you are right : my tongue is dull — 

Words step slowly, and far apart ; 
Fogs float my small intellect full — 

Creeping between the head and heart. 
Something thrusts from me, ever yet, 

Things that I do not want to say ; 
Something makes my tongue forget 

Gems I remember, when away. 
Several times I have had The Speech 
Close to my blind tongue's groping reach ; 



SECOND CHAIN 45 

Several times my foremost word 
. Stumbled against some small event. 
Mean, and pitiful, and absurd, 
As if by a mischief-bureau sent. 

{The portrait of the young lady s grandmother 
on the wall seems to smile approvingly, with 
a half- triumphant expression ; that of the 
grandfather appears to put on a sympathiz- 
ing look. 

Fitz Clintonne {continuing). 
That time in the shady, flower-breathed grove, 

Your hand on my arm, we slowly walked, 
My tongue of a sudden fell in love — 

Cupid himself ! — how I could have talked ! 
But ere the oration was half begun 

A cow broke through the confounded fences — 
Charged on us with a swinging run — 

Ethel. 

Scared me half-way out of my senses — 

Fitz Clintonne. 
And so the words my soul would say 
Were drowned in a loud, inglorious " Whey !" 
My word-supply-car jumped the track, 
In shunting that wretched milk-train back. 
One time we floated the marching lake 

They call a river — the key was mine ! 
The billows of speech began to break — 

They soon would have brought The Word divine ! 
But an envious fish crept round our way — 
The only one that we caught that day — 



46 CTTY LEGENDS 

And nabbed your hook — and my oration, 

Ere it was half begun, was o'er. 

Ethel {animatedly). 
One of the beauties of creation ! 

Weighed ten pounds and a half, or more ! 

Fitz Clintonne. 
The fish, I suppose you mean. One eve, 
Just as the twilight prepared to leave, 
We sat and looked at a silver paring 

Called the new moon — near a diamond-star 
Which the sweet blue-eyed sky was wearing. 

Words rushed straight to me, from afar ; 
Stopped at my heart, then sought the tongue ; 
Never such words were said or sung ! 
But o'er our veranda, just in time 
To wed the ridiculous and sublime, 
Crept a small mouse — bright-eyed and fleet — 

Ethel. 
And I screamed like a pantheress, and jumped six feet ! 

\The face of the grandfather on the wall actu- 
ally seems to grin ; that of the grandmother 
lengthens in pictorial sympathetic fright, 
and her arms appear to stretch suddenly 
towards the lower folds of her dress. 

Fitz Clintonne {aside). 
If I would not be left out of sight, 

An answer to-day I must insist on ; 
For Fitz Cumlippitt is coming to-night, . 

And he has a tongue like an engine-piston. 



SECOND CHAIN 47 

He will say so many soft words to 'er, 

The Password will be amongst them, sure ; 

At least, she will think it is — O shade 

Of every talker that e'er was made, 

Of gossips, and lawyers, and auctioneers, 

Of orators, poets, and talking seers, 

Lend me your tongues — or my murderers be ; 

For I shall die if she doesn't wed me ! 

[Aloud'] 
Ethel, I love you. Let it suffice 
My words are earnest, if not o'er-nice. 
'Mid all this century's arts and shams, 
My love is as firm as 

Huckster {in the street). 

Soft- shell c-1-a-m-s ! 

Fitz Clintonne {recovering). 
Fie on the villain ! Ethel, my heart 
Is yours forever ; we must not part. 
Often my soul, in some lonely spot, 
Reaches for yours, and finds it not ; 
And breaks into still, tumultuous sobs — 
Longing — longing — for — 

Huckster {in the street). 

Crabs an' 1-o-b-s — 
L-o-b-s-t-e-r-s ! 

Fitz Clintonne {indignantly). 

Fie on the sordid wretch, 
Collapsing my speech, with his mouth astretch ! 
Ethel, I need, for my heart's repose — 

Voice {in the street). 
Cash fur ol' clo's — ol' clo's, ol' c-1-o-o-s — 



48 CITY LEGENDS 

Fitz Clintonne {tenderly). 
If you will be my life-heart-friend, 
You shall have always 

Voice (in the street). 

B-o-i-l-e-r-s to mend ! 

Fitz Clintonne {resolutely). 
You shall have always love and rest, 

Soothing you through life's varied scenes ; 
Safe in our cosey, bright home-nest, 

We will e'er live on 

Female HUCKSTER (in street, shrilly, and m a tone of 
interrogation). 

Fresh — fresh g-r-e-e-n-s ! 

Fitz Clintonne {despairingly). 
Ever 'tis thus. You see I may 

As well talk Greek, or Zulu, or Hindoo ; 
Chaos intrudes, whatever I say. 

I will close my speech. 

Ethel {smiling). Or, perhaps, the window. 

Fitz Clintonne {after obeying with alacrity). 
Ethel, I love you. My love is pure 
And fresh from the soul, and must endure. 
Its fountains shall never cease to flow ! 

Ethel {positively). 
Oh, but men's love is never so ! 

Fitz Clintonne {solemnly). 
Ethel, have you one case in view, 
Where man to woman has proved untrue ? 

Ethel {readily). 
Thousands and thousands and thousands ! no man 
Has walked the world since the world began, 



SECOND CHAIN 49 

As true to the woman who loved him truly 
As she to him. 
Fitz Clintonne. 

You speak unduly. 
But list while I tell you, second-hand, 
What a young man in Austria-land 
Stood for the girl he loved. Tis fit 
To say that he stood, as you'll admit. 

[Draws a mag azi?ie from Jiis pocket and pre- 
pares to read. The yowig lady arranges a 
series of furtive yawns ; the faces on the 
wall assume a look of stoical endurance. 

Fitz Clintonne reads .- 

THE HERO OF THE TOWER 

Long time ago, when Austria was young, 
There came a herald to Vienna's gates, 
Bidding the city fling them open wide 
Upon a certain day; for then the king 
Would enter, with his shining retinue. 

Forthwith the busy streets were pleasure -paths; 
And that which seemed but now a field of toil, 
With weeds of turbulence and tricky greed, 
Flashed into gardens blooming full of flowers. 
Beauty blushed deeper, now the rising sun 
Of royalty upon it was to shine ; 
Wealth cast its nets of tinsel and of gold 

4 



$0 CI IV 1 EGEN DS 

To catch the kingly eve; and wisdom merged 
Itself into the terms of an address. 
Which the old mayor sat up nights to learn. 
No maiden fluttered through the narrow streets 
That pondered not what ribbons she should wear; 
No window on the long- procession's route 
But had its tenants long engaged ahead. 

But the old sexton of St. Joseph's Church 
Moped dull and sulky through the smiling crowd; 
A blot upon the city's pleasure-page. 
'What runs wrong with you, uncle?" was the cry; 
"You. who have been the very youngest boy 
Of all the old men that the city had ; 
Who loved processions more than perquisites, 
And rolled a gala-day beneath your tongue: 
What rheumatism has turned that temper lame? 
Speak up. ami make your inward burden ours." 

The old man slowly walked until he came 
Unto the market-place ; then feebly stopped. 
As if to talk; and a crowd gathered soon. 
As men will, when a man has things to say. 
And thus he spoke: "For titty years and more 
I have been sexton of St. Joseph's Church ; 
St. Joseph's would have fared ill but for me. 
And though my friend the priest, may smile at this, 
And wink at you an unbelieving eye, 
My office shines in heaven as well as his. 
Although it was not mine to make the church 
Godly. I kept it clean ; and that stands next. 



SECOND CHAIN 5 I 

If I have broke one circle of my sphere, 

Let some one with straight finger trace it out. 

" And no procession, in these fifty years, 

Has marched the streets with aught like kingly tread, 

But on the summit of St. Joseph's spire 

I stood erect and waved a welcome-flag, 

With scanty resting-place beneath my feet, 

And the wild breezes clutching at my beard. 

It took some nerve to stand so near to heaven 

And fling abroad its colors. Try it, priest. 

" But I am old ; most of my manhood's fire 
Is choked in cold, white ashes; and my nerves 
Tremble in every zephyr like the leaves. 
What can I do? — the flag must not be missed 
From the cathedral's summit! I've no son, 
Or he should bear the banner, or my curse. 
I have a daughter; she shall wave the Hag! 

"And this is how my child shall wave the flag. 

Ten suitors has she ; and the valiant one 

Who, strong of heart and will, can climb that perch 

And do what I so many times have done, 

Shall take her hand from mine at his descent. 

Speak up, Vienna lads ! and recollect 

How much of loveliness faint heart e'er won." 

Then there was clamor in the callow breasts 
Of the Vienna youth; for she was far 
The sweetest blossom of that city's vines. 



52 CITY LEGENDS 

Many a youngster's eye climbed furtively 
Where the frail spire-tip trembled in the breeze, 
Then wandered to the cot wherein she dwelt ; 
But none spoke up, till Gabriel Petersheim, 
Whose ear this proclamation strange had reached, 
Came rushing through the crowd, and boldly said : 

" I am your daughter's suitor, and the one 
She truly loves ; but scarce can gain a smile 
Until I win her father's heart as well ; 
And you, old man, have frowned on me, and said 
I was too young, too frivolous, too wild, 
And had not manhood worthy of her hand. 
Mark me to-morrow as I mount yon spire, 
And mention, when I bring the flag to you, 
Whether 'twas ever waved more gloriously." 

And thus the old man answered : " Climb your way ; 
And if a senseful breeze should push you off, 
And break that raw and somewhat worthless neck, 
I could not greatly mourn ; but go your way, 
And you shall have the girl if you succeed." 

High on the giddy pinnacle, next day, 
Waited the youth; but not till evening's sun 
Marched from the western gates, that tardy king 
Rode past the church. And though young Gabriel's 

nerves 
Were weakened by fatigue and want of food, 
He pleased the people's and the monarch's eye, 
And flashed a deeper thrill of love through one 



SECOND CHAIN 53 

Who turned her sweet face often up to him, 

And whose true heart stood with him on the tower. 

Now, when the kingly pageant all had passed, 
He folded up the flag, and with proud smiles 
And prouder heart prepared him to descend. 
But the small trap-door through which he had crept 
Had by some rival's hand been barred ! and he, 
With but a hand-breadth's space where he might cling, 
Was left alone, to live there, or to die. 

Guessing the truth, or shadow of the truth, 

He smiled, at first, and said : "Well, let them voice 

Their jealousy by such a paltry trick ! 

They laugh an hour ; my laugh will longer be ! 

Their joke will soon be dead, and I released." 

But an hour, and two others, slowly came, 

And then he murmured, " This is no boy's sport ; 

It is a silent signal which means 'Death'!" 

He shouted, but no answer came to him ; 

Not even an echo, on that lofty perch. 

He waved his hands in mute entreaty; but 

The darkness crept between him and his friends. 

A half-hour seemed an age, and still he clung. 
He looked down at the myriad city lights, 
Twinkling like stars upon a lowlier sky, 
And prayed ; " O blessed city of my birth ! 
In which full many I love, and one o'er-well, 
Or I should not be feebly clinging here, 



54 CITY LEGENDS 

Is there not 'mongst those thousands one kind heart 
To help me? or must I come back to you 
Crashing my way through grim, untimely death?" 
Rich sounds of mirth came faintly — but no help. 

Another hour went by, and still he clung. 
He braced himself against the rising breeze, 
And wrapped the flag around his shivering form, 
And thus he prayed unto the merry winds : 

"O breeze! you bear no tales of truer love 

Than I can give you at this lonely height ! 

Tell but my danger to the heart I serve, 

And she will never rest till I am free !" 

The winds pressed hard against him as he clung,. 

And wellnigh wrenched him from that scanty hold, 

But made no answer to his piteous plea. 

Hour after hour went by, and still he held — 
Weak, dizzy, reeling — to his narrow perch. 
It was a clear and queenly summer night ; 
And every star seemed hanging from the sky, 
As if 'twere bending down to look at him. 
And thus he prayed to the far-shining stars : 

" O million worlds, peopled perhaps like this, 
Can you not see me, clinging helpless here ? 
Can you not flash a message to some eye, 
Or throw your influence on some friendly brain 
To rescue me?" — A million sweet-eyed stars 
Gave smiles to the beseecher, but no help. 



SECOND CHAIN 55 

And so the long procession of the night 

Marched slowly past, and each scarce. hour was hailed 

By the great clock beneath ; and still he clung 

Unto the frail preserver of his life, 

And held, not for his life, but for his love. 

Held while the spiteful breezes wrenched at him ; 

Held while the chills of midnight crept through him; 

While Hope and Fear made him their battle-ground,' 

And ravaged fiercely through his heart and brain. 

He moaned, he wept, he prayed again ; he prayed— 

Grown desperate and half raving in his woe— 

To everything in earth, or air, or sky: 

To the fair streets, now still and silent grown ; 

To the cold roofs, now stretched 'twixt him and aid ; 

To the dumb, distant hills that heedless slept; 

To the white clouds that slowly fluttered past ; 

To his lost mother in the sky above ; 

And then he prayed to God. 

About that time, 
The maiden, who, half anxious and half piqued 
That her through all the evening he'd not sought, 
Had sunk into a restless, thorn-strown sleep, 
Dreamed that she saw her lover on the tower, 
Clinging for life ; and with a scream uprose, 
And rushed to the old sexton's yielding door, 
Granting no peace to him until he ran 
To find the truth, and give the boy release. 

An hour ere sunrise he crept feebly down, 
Grasping the flag, and claiming his fair prize. 



56 CITY LEGENDS 

But what a wreck to win a blooming girl ! 
His cheeks were wrinkled and of yellow hue ; 
His eyes were sunken ; and his curling hair 
Gleamed white as snow upon the distant Alps. 

But the young maiden clasped his weary head 

In her white arms, and soothed him like a child; 

And said, "You lived a life of woe for me 

Up on the spire, and now look old enough 

Even to please my father ; but soon I 

Will nurse you back into your youth again." 

And soon the tower bells sang his wedding song. 
The old-young man was happy; and they both, 
Cheered by the well-earned bounty of the king, 
Lived many years within Vienna's gates. 

[A brief interval of silence follows. The portraits 
of the old people on the wall seem to have awakened; 
their forms have the appear 'ance of stretching, 
after a nice little nap. ETHEL looks dreamily 
out of the window, yawns in her eyes, at a flirta- 
tion going on across the street. 

Fitz Clintonne. 
Was he not faithful ? — answer me ! 

Ethel. 

Yes, I confess ; 'tis only fair 
To admit that a man will faithful be - 

If placed on a tower and locked up there. 



SECOND CHaIN 57 

Fitz Clintonne {thoughtfully, and aside). 
A turn of the story I didn't foresee. 
[Aloud] Ethel, I love you !— I am the youth 
Upon that tower ; and I wave, in truth, 
The banner of love ; for all can see, 
Who have much knowledge of you and me, 
My unhid passion! — but far from reach 
You are locked away by my lack of speech. 
The walls of my reticence gloom about — 
Ethel, for Heaven's sake, let me out ! 
I will break through, with Love's strong arts, 
And give you the password of our hearts ! 
The words are coming! 

[An empty express wagon rushes like a peal of thun- 
der along the street, shaking the house to its very 
foundations, and overwhelming all other sound. 
Fitz Clintonne sinks back in hopeless silence. 
Ethel laughs drearily. The portraits on the 
wall vibrate, and a sealed envelope drops from 
the grandmother s picture — almost as it might 
be from the venerable lady's pocket. Her face 
looks as if she were glad to get rid of it. Ethel 
picks it up. 

Ethel. 
Another poem, I do declare ! — 

From a cousin I will not name; 

Placed (the poem) within the frame, 
Just to help keep the canvas there. 
A maiden lady of — certain age — 
Thrilled with a mild poetic rage; 



58 Cl rv i EGENDS 

She sends us copies o! every rhyme; 

We do not open them halt' the time. .-' . -..> . . . 

i . . 
But this I will read. And von may know 
Bj the title why I do so 

5 
a WOMAN'S DEVOTION . OR, I'Kl E ro BROTHER SPEAR 

1 can't decide why Brother Spear 

Was never joined to me : 
It wasn't because the good old dear 

Hadn't every eh.. -.nee to be! 
If Poetry remarked, one time. 

That •'Womanhood is true," 
It's more than probable that l*m 

U.e one it had in view ; 
For search the city, low and high. 

1 •.-.quire, both tar and near. 
There's none will say but what that 1 

Was true to Brother Spear! 

I mothered all hts daughters when 

Their mamma's life cut short. 
Although they didn't— now or then — 

So much as thank me tor't ; 
1 laughed down my interior rage. 

And said I didn't care, 
When his young son, of tender age, 

Reduced my surplus hair ; 



SECOND CHAIN 59 

I called and called and called there; why 

He was not in, seemed queer ; 
The neighbors, even, owned that I 

Was true to Brother Spear! 

I hired a sitting in the church, 

Near him, but corner-wise, 
So his emotions I could search 

With my devoted eyes ; 
And when the sermon used to play 

On love, divine and free, 
I nodded him, as if to say, 

"It's hitting you and me!" 
He went and took another pew — 

Of "thousand tongues" in fear; 
I also changed, and still was true 

To good old Brother Spear! 

Poor man ! — I recollect he spoke, 

One large prayer-meeting night, 
And told how little we must look, 

In Heaven's majestic sight; 
He said, Unworthy he had been, 

By Conscience e'er abhorred, 
To be a door-keeper within 

The temple of The Lord; 
And that his place forevermore, 

Undoubtedly and clear, 
Was mainly back behind the door — 

Poor humble Brother Spear! 



60 CITY LEGENDS 

And then / rose and made a speech, 

Brimful of soul distress ; 
And told them how words could not reach 

My own unworthiness : 
Though orphanage I tried to soothe, 

And helpless widowerhood, 
To tell the incandescent truth, 

I too felt far from good ; 
And that a trembling heart and mind 

Compelled it to appear 
That my place also was behind 

The door, with Brother Spear ! 

Poor man ! he ne'er was heard, they say, 

Again to gladly speak ; 
He took down sick the following day, 

And died within a week. 
One prayer they often heard him give — 

That, if his days were o'er, 
/ still upon the earth might live 

A hundred years or more. 
As his betrothed I figure, now, 

And drop the frequent tear; 
And his relations all will vow 

I'm true to Brother Spear ! 

[ The portraits on the wall look quite interested and 
considerably amused. Ethel tears the paper 
into fragments. 



SECOND CHAIN 6l 

Ethel {pouting). 
Senseless creature ! If I had known 

What 'twas she wrote, I'd have not begun it! 

FlTZ Clintonne {laughing). 
But she was faithful, I will own ; 

Love so fervent — how could he shun it? 

Ethel. 
He couldn't, except through Death's design. 

Fitz Clintonne. 
No more, dear Ethel, than you can mine. 
Perhaps, somewhere, she may woo and win 

This scornful man, if she works and waits : 
For passion is oft concealed within 

A cloak that its object loathes and hates. 
And true devotion and love, they say, 
(" It's dogged as does it ") will win, some day. 
Still, one must walk a hard road yet, 
To always pursue and ne'er be met ; 
But man is equal to that same task. 
Hear of another faithful one— [Draws a newspaper. 

Ethel {in mild consternation). 
Oh, it is more than I could ask ! 

Fitz Clintonne {resolutely). 
No, don't mention it ! 

Ethel. Then don't you ! 

Fitz Clintonne {resolutely). 
Judge if I may not, when 'tis done ; 

Yes, you must hear it, without fail ! 
A man who waited his whole life through : 

Hear the poor fellow's doleful tale. 

Reads : 



CITY LEGENDS 



TWELVE O CLOCK : A LEGEND OF BROOKLYN 

" ' Do I love you ?' Oh, but listen !" — 
And he saw her dark eyes glisten 
With a gentle joy that rilled him, 
With a passion-wave that thrilled him : 
" ' Do I love you ?' Ask the ages 
Front of this life's blotted pages — 
Cycles that our minds forget, 
But our souls remember yet — 
If the strands they saw us twine 
In great moments half divine 
Cannot stand against the cold 
Voice and touch of senseless gold ? 
How can Wealth forbid the meeting 
Of two hearts that blend in beating ? 
How can Thrift presume to fashion 
Heaven's eternal love and passion ? 
Listen ! — if 'tis not o'er-soon, 
Come to-morrow-day at noon ; — 
On that glad — that mournful day 
When my girlhood creeps away — 
On that day — the understood 
Birthday of my womanhood — 
Come ! and, joined in hand as heart, 
We will walk no more apart. 
Meet me — do not let me wait — 
By this iron — this golden gate — ■ 
When, its mid-day hour to tell, 
Rings the silvery court-house bell. 



SECOND CHAIN 63 

" Should I fail you, dear, to-morrow, 
Go away, but not in sorrow ; 
There be many ways may meet 
Fetters round a maiden's feet. 
There be watchers— there be spies — 
There be jealous tongues and eyes ; 
Many hate my love for you, 
And would cut our life in two. 
Oh, they guard me all the time, 
As if loving were a crime ! 

" Should I fail the second morrow, 

Hope from next day you must borrow ; 

If I fail you then — endure; 

Hope and trust be still the cure. 

Naught on earth has power — has art 

Long to hold us two apart ; 

None but God were equal to it, 

And I know He would not do it. 

I will come to you, indeed ; 

You would wait, love, were there need ?" 

And he said, with brave endeavor, 

" I will wait for you forever. 

Each day I shall come to you, 

Till you come, and find me true. 

Each day hear the hopeful swell 

Of the mid-day court-house bell." 

So, next day, he stood and waited 
For the soul his soul had mated ; 



64 CITY LEGENDS 

Saw the clock's black finger climb 
To its topmost round of time — 
Heard the mighty metal throat 
Sing afar its mid-day note; 
Listened, with a nervous thrill, 
And his warm heart standing still, 
Glanced about, with keen desire, 
And his yearning soul afire ; 
Searched, and searched, with jealous care- 
Searched — but saw no loved one there. 
" * Should I fail you, dear, to-morrow, 
Go away, but not in sorrow ;' 
'Twas her word," he softly said : 
" Be she living, be she dead, 
Still my heart is scant of fear ; 
She will some time meet me here. 
My sad soul I will employ 
With to-morrow's destined joy ; 
Here is happiness for me, 
Living o'er what is to be. 
She will come — her love to tell — 
With to-morrow's mid-day bell." 

So, next day, he watched and waited, 
With a heart by hope elated ; 
Peering — searching for a face 
Full of love-exalted grace. 
But his glance crept far and wide 
With some fear it could not hide ; 
Crept across the grimy pavement, 
Moaning in its dull enslavement; 



SECOND CHAIN 

Roamed the long streets, empty-seeming, 
Though with lovely faces gleaming; 
Shivered, as with landscape drear, 
'Neath a blue sky, bright and clear; 
For the bell, with sorrowing strain, 
Called her to his side in vain. 
'"If I fail the second morrow, 
Hope from next day you must borrow :' 
'Twas her word," he bravely said : 
" Let to-morrow stand instead." 
Still upon his heart there fell 
Shadows from the mid-day bell. 

Day by day he watched and waited, 

By cold Disappointment fated ; 

Bit by bit his hoping ceased ; 

Hour by hour his faith increased. 

Oft he strove to find her, then, 

In her guardian's palace-den ; 

But the looks he met were bleak, 

And the marble would not speak, 

Would not show the poisoned thong 

Of a dark and fiendish wrong; 

Would not tell the woe and rage 

Of a dreary mad-house cage, 

Where the girl was kept by stealth, 

Lest she claim her paltry wealth. 

Could not hear her frantic prayer 

That God's hand might reach her there ; 

Could not see her droop away 

Hour by hour and day by day ; 



65 



66 CITY LEGENDS 

Could not feel her breath grow still 
With the healing arts that kill ; 
Could not trace the greed that gave 
Her a half-named marble grave. 
Still he watched and waited well, 
'Neath the weary noontide bell. 

Days and weeks and months and years 
Coursed the face of time, like tears — 
Spring's sweet-scented mid-day air, 
Summer's fierce meridian glare, 
Autumn's mingled lead and gold, 
Winter's murder-thrusts of cold. 
Patiently he braved each one 
At its mid-day cloud or sun ; 
Silently he turned — was gone — 
Sad, desponding, and alone. 
Still his famished eyes crept round, 
Still he thrilled at every sound : 
"'Nought on earth has power — has art- 
Long to hold us two apart ; 
None but God were equal to it, 
And I know He would not do it.' 
'Twas her word," he grimly said : 
"She will come, alive or dead." 
Pavement travellers passed him by, 
Day by day, with curious eye ; 
Dreamers sought romance to trace 
In his bronzed and fading face; 
Questioners, though kind, were yet 
"With cold, patient silence met; 



SECOND CHAIN 67 

Still he watched and waited well, 
By the lonely court-house bell. 

Yet he came — yet crept away ; 

And his dark-brown hair grew gray, 

And his manhood's power grew spent, 

And his form was thin and bent. 

Poorly clad and rough to see ; 

Crushed by Sickness' stern decree ; 

For intense compassion lit, 

But still grandly scorning it. 

" He is crazed," they said, aside : 

"I am sane!" his heart replied. 

" ' I will come to you, indeed ; 

You would wait, love, were there need !' 

'Twas her word," he faintly said : 

" Hands will meet if hearts are wed." 

Sometimes to him it would seem, 

Half in earnest, half in dream, 

He could view her loveliness — 

He could feel her fond caress. 

But some passing sound or sight 

Sent the vision back to night ; 

And a dull and mournful knell 

Seemed the leaden court-house bell. 



As, one day, his weakened form 
Bent before a winter storm, 
As he fell — Death's fear before him, 
And a veil of darkness o'er him — 



68 CITY LEGENDS 

Soft a voice — or was it seeming? — 
Full a form — or was he dreaming? — 
Brought a rapture that repaid 
All the debts that Grief had made. 
"O my love!" the words came fast; 
■ " Do you see me, then, at last ? 
Do you hear me — do you feel me — 
Can the world no more conceal me ? 
' Did I meet you ?' Oh, but listen ! 
When released from Pain's black prison, 
Long through deserts and through meadows, 
Long- through Death's black silent shadows, 
With my soul God's help entreating, 
Sought I for our place of meeting. 
Oh, I crushed my arms around you, 
When I found you — when I found you — 
Saw you sorrow's black net weaving — 
Fondly suffering — bravely grieving — 
Saw the truth you could not see — 
Felt your loving faith in me. 
How, each day, God's help entreating, 
Came I to our place of meeting! 
How I hailed each coming morrow ! 
How I strove to soothe your sorrow ! 
Times, the thought would come to cheer 

me, 
• He can see me ! He can hear me !' 
Then the mists of earth would screen us — 
Then day's darkness stepped between us. 
Yet your dear soul I could see, 
Suffering still its way to me. 




A F'JRM — <_»R WAS HE DK: 



SECOND CHAIN 69 

Pain at last has cut the tether; 

Death will let us live together. 

Darling, throw your arms around me! 

You have found me — you have found me — 

Nought on earth had power or art 

Long to hold us two apart. 

None but God were equal to it. 

And I knew He would not do it. 

Listen ! Hear the echoes swell 

Of our merry wedding-bell!" 



[A few moments of phenomenal silence ensue. 
ETHEL absently toys with a musical album on 
the table //oar her ; she touches the spring 

unconsciously, and there leaps forth in small, 
diminutive tones anaffecting little love ditty, 
thus, as it were, furnishing to the scene an 
appropriate dramatic accompaniment of soft 
music. 

FlTZ CLINTONNE {suddenly). 
Ethel, the bonds of speech are broken ! 
Now or ne'er shall the word be spoken — 

[A terrific shock of earthquake interrupts him 
— the first known in that city for years. Fur- 
niture commences an impromptu dance. Por- 
traits on the wall nearly knock their heads 
together. Ethel screams, and clings reso- 



JO CITY LEGENDS 

lutely and perseveringly to Fitz Clintonne 
for protection. Their lips accidentally meet 
in a long and half -delirious kiss — the first 
they have thus far placed on record. This so 
absorbs the yoimg gentleman, that, although 
quite scientifically inclined, he forgets to study 
any other of the seismic effects abotit him. 
Indeed, the earthquake almost immediately 
subsides. 

Ethel {slowly unclinging herself}. 
Who would have thought that— thrilled with bliss — 
The password was, after all— a kiss ! 

{Portraits opposite them seem to assume a 
" Bless you, my children" look. The usual 
amount of serenity resumes its sway. Street 
traffic recommences its clamors, but is un- 
heard within. 



THIRD CHAIN 



GbtrO Cbain 

Scene I., Christmas morning in an old-fashioned country kitchen. 
Culinary apparatus is lying about in a semi-orderly manner. 
Bunches of seed-corn are braided together by the husks over 
the doors. A Bible and hymn-book are on the i?iantel. An 
almanac is hanging near by. The last numbers of the Dea- 
con s own denominational journal and the local paper of a 
neighboring village rest upon a table in the corner — a pair of 
steel-bozved spectacles lying across them. Two cats are camp- 
ing cosily and contentedly befoi'e the large kitchen stove — one 
of them purring softly in a half -slumber, the other silent in 
absolute sleep. 

Deacon Kindman. 
Trim up the parlors, good -wife, and make them extra 

gay, 
For I'm to have a party, on this cold Christmas Day: 
The friends that are invited will be here — do not 

doubt ! 
I'll go myself and bring them, unless they'll come 

without. 

Oh yes ! you've been a-guessing, perhaps a month or 

two, 
About my Christmas party, and what I meant to do ; 



74 CITY LEGENDS 

The first whose invitations have all been left to me : 
You're not quite sure concerning the guests you're 
going to see. 

Our children ? — No, not this time ; they've children of 

their own, 
Whose Christmas trees are bending with presents 

newly grown ; 
They've got their life-vines planted, with love-flowers 

all about — 
Just what we worked so hard for, when first we started 

out. 

Our cousins? — Well, not this time; 'tisn't what the 

plan intends ; 
They're all quite earthly prosperous, with any amount 

of friends ; 
The world is always offering success an upward hitch ; 
But Christmas wasn't invented entirely for the rich. 

Our preacher and his family? — They're working now, 
like sin, 

A-sorting out the slippers and other gifts sent in ; 

One turkey that I know of is on their kitchen blaze ; 

A cheery, popular preacher has good times, nowa- 
days S 

You don't know who you've cooked for? — Well, that 

is 'most too bad ; 
Of course you've no cur'os'ty— no woman ever had! 



THIRD CHAIN 75 

But still, your hands and heart, wife, have wellnigh 

gone to war ! 
A woman works much happier when she knows who 

it's for ? . . . 

I'll tell you one : — a cripple that you and I both know- 
Is living in a small hut, half buried in the snow — 
His body bravely struggling to coax his soul to stay; 
I'm going to get that cripple, and keep him here all 
day. 

And one's a poor old woman we've never called our 

friend, 
But whose sad life grows heavy while struggling to its 

end — 
Without a merry Christmas for twenty winters drear! 
To-day she'll have a picnic to last her all the year. 

And one's an old - style preacher, brimful of heavenly 

truth, 
Whose eloquence lost fashion, or ran off with his 

youth ; 
And younger men and prettier, with flowery words 

came nigh, 
And so the various churches have stood the old man 

by. 

He tried his best to please them and serve Jehovah 

too — 
He toiled each separate Sunday to " get up something 

new "; 



76 CITY LEGENDS 

They wanted elocution, and curvey-gestured speech ! 
And now this grand old preacher can't get a place to 
preach. 

But I've a strong opinion that angels crowd up near 
That man-deserted leader, his godlike thoughts to hear; 
We'll have a Bible-chapter made over good as new 
When he to-day talks Gospel, and asks the blessing, 
too ! 

"And who else?" — I have sent word to all in my 
mind's way 

Who can't afford a dinner that's equal to The Day; 

And some good prosperous friends, too, will come with 
smiling face, 

To keep those poor from feeling that they're a sepa- 
rate race. 

And one of them's a neighbor, who, though sincere, 

no doubt, 
Once couldn't quite understand me — and so we two 

fell out; 
And every Sunday morning we've passed each other's 

door, 
And have not known each other for fifteen years or 

more : 

I went to him last evening, and said, " Old friend, see 

here ; 
We're both tip-top good fellows : now, doesn't it strike 

you queer, 



THIRD CHAIN JJ 

That we're assisting Satan to sow the grain of strife ? 
Come over, sure, to-morrow, and bring along your wife. 

"Just come and help us, helping some poor ones draw 

their loads, 
Who've stalled upon the side -hills of Life's uneven 

roads." 
He looked at me in wonder, then stood a moment still, 
Then grasped my hands and whispered, " My dear old 

friend, I will." 

I think you're with me, good - wife, from what your 

features say — 
And that's the kind of comp'ny we're going to have 

to-day ; 
Through which I hope a true love for all mankind 

may roam — 
A sort of Christmas party where Christ would feel at 

home. 



Scene II., a large number assembled in the parlor. It is not 
exactly a homogeneous company, but seems to be quite a happy 
one, nevertheless. Deacon Kindman has evidently followed 
his plan to the letter. Everybody that he invited is present, 
and a few that he did not have happened in. The company 
have just risen from prayer with the good old-style preacher, 
who has thoroughly appreciated and improved the now unu- 
sual opportunity. He takes this occasion to combine tzvo ser- 
mons — one on Thanksgiving Day and one on Christmas — 
which have for many years been growing in his heart, wait- 
ing for a chance to be preached. 



jS CITY LEGENDS 

Deacon KlNDMAN. 
Now in tuneful chorus our thanks we will prolong, 
And sing to the Father of fathers our own thanks- 
giving song. 
With soul, as well as larynx, let all of us rejoice, 
And not perform our worship entirely with the voice. 

[Jeremiah, a neighboring poor mans son, passes 
round papers containing a iiymn which he 
has copied in an uncultured but very reada- 
ble hand. 
All sing. 

HYMN OF THANKSGIVING 

To tlie air, "Portuguese Hymn." 

We thank Thee, O Father, for all that is bright — 
The gleam of the day and the stars of the night ; 
The flowers of our youth and the fruits of our prime, 
And blessings e'er marching the pathway of time. 

We thank Thee, O Father, for all that is drear — 
The sob of the tempest, the flow of the tear ; 
For never in blindness, and never in vain, 
Thy mercy permitted a sorrow or pain. 

We thank Thee, O Father, for song and for feast — 
The harvest that glowed and the wealth that in- 
creased ; 
For never a blessing encompassed thy child 
But Thou in Thy mercy looked downward and smiled. 



THIRD CHAIN 79 

We thank Thee, O Father of all, for the power 
Of aiding each other in life's darkest hour — 
The generous heart and the bountiful hand, 
And all the soul-help that sad souls understand. 

We thank Thee, O Father, for days yet to be, 
For hopes that our future will call us to Thee ; 
That all our Eternity form, through Thy love, 
One Thanksgiving Day in the mansions above. 

Deacon KiNDMAN. 
And now a neighbor's daughter, who — don't waste time 

to doubt — 
Knows how to read a poem and turn it inside out, 
Who first sits down and invites it into her heart and 

soul, 
And part of herself surrenders entire to its control, 

And part of her mind keeps clear, like, when ready, as 

she ought 
To be — to give to the author the aid of her own clear 

thought 
(For face and form and gesture — be 't good or be it 

bad — 
Add much to an author's meaning, or rob him of what 

he had); 

Whose mental frills and tuckers are laid upon the 

shelf, 
And who, in her well-conned subject, can partly forget 

herself ; 



80 CITY LEGENDS 

This daughter of my good neighbor, who sits, himself, 
near by, 

And needn't be blamed for looking at her with a par- 
tial eye, 

Will read a poem to us, presenting, I believe, 

A legend of what happened on the first Christmas Eve. 

Alice {the. neighbor s daughter, reads, plainly, thought- 
fully, spiritedly, and without affectation) : 



THE VOICE OF A STAR ; OR, THE FIRST CHRISTMAS EVE 

Dark Night once more her tent unfurled 

On Power's first-century home — 
Upon the marble heart of the world — 

The great, grand city of Rome ; 
And hushed at last were the chariot-tires, 

And still the sandalled feet, 
And dimmed the palace-window-fires 

On many a noble street ; 
And to a roof a maiden came, 

With eyes as angels' love, 
And looked up at the spheres of flame 

That softly gleamed above. 

She gazed at them with a rmsty eye, 

And spoke, in accents sad : 
" O tell me, gold-birds of the sky 

(If ever a voice you had), 



THIRD CHAIN 

Is justice dull from a palsy stroke, 

And deaf, as well as blind ? 
Else why must e'er the heaviest yoke 

Be placed on womankind? 
Why should the solace of man's heart 

Be oft his meanest slave ? 
Why is her life e'er torn apart 

By those she has toiled to save ? 

" Why should the mould of the human race 

Be crushed and thrown away, 
Whenever it lacks the outward grace 

That woos the stronger clay ? 
Why must the mothers of men be bought 

And sold, like beasts that die? 
Why are they scourged, for little or nought, 

And barred of all reply? 
Why are we women of Rome e'er told 

That we should happy be, 
Because not kept like flocks in fold, 

Like those across the sea? 

"Have we no heart? Have we no mind? 
Must not our conscience speak? 

Say ! must our souls be dumb or blind 
Because our hands are weak ? 

Must we be ever the laughing-stock 
Of man's fond, fickle heart? 

Were we but born for Fate to mock- 
To play a menial part ? 



82 CITY LEGENDS 

Must all our triumphs be a lie — 

Our joys in fetters clad ? 
Oh, tell me, gold-birds of the sky 

(If ever a voice you had) !" 

Then from the east a new, bright star 

Flashed to her flashing eye, 
And seemed to speak to her from afar, 

With courteous, kind reply : 
"Why weep, fair maid, upon the eve 

Of Victory's coming morn? 
It is o'er-strange for one to grieve 

Whose champion's to be born ! 
To-morrow a new, old king appears, 

With dimpled, mighty hand ; 
And He shall reign a million years, 

O'er many a princely land. 

" His mother a queen the world shall see, 

Whose reign doth e'er endure ; 
All women shall His sisters be 

Whose ways are just and pure ; 
A woman's fault shall not be her death, 

By men or angels seen ; 
Repentance, and His God-strewn breath, 

May always step between. 
A woman's fame, by merit won, 

Shall add to her queenly grace ; 
And higher, as the years march on, 

Shall be her destined place. 



THIRD CHAIN 83 

" And four great words the world shall see 

Enwoven with man's life : 
Mother and sister two shall be, 

And two be daughter and wife. 
It shall be felt that she whose care 

The lamp of thrift makes burn, 
Can take with him an equal share 

Of all their lives may earn ; 
That she whose soft and healing hand 

Can soothe, with blessing bright, 
Is no less great and true and grand 

Than he who leads the fight." 

Like one who through a wood may grope 

Till light comes to his eyes, 
The maiden thrilled with new-born hope, 

And seized the glad surprise. 
The voice of the star she understood, 

Its glorious meaning knew, 
And all her dreams of woman's good 

Seemed likely to come true. 
And when once more the twilight gray 

Was brightened by the morn, 
Within a manger far away 

The infant Christ was born. 

[All the ladies present applaud vigorously. The 
men nod, in mild approbation. The old cler- 
gyman states that he has a series of thirteen 
sermons upon the subject of luomanhood's 
Christian ennoblement, which he should be 



84 CITY LEGENDS 

glad to give in the district school-house, or i7i 
any church where the people would like to 
asseinble for the purpose of hearing him. 
Deacon Kindman arranges with him to 
preach the first of the series in his parlor, 
upon the following Sunday evening. All 
present declare they will come. The company 
then sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee." 

Deacon Kindman {holding the hymn-book in his hand). 
Not alone in the country, where God's first work was 

done, 
Is found the true religion that came from His mighty 

Son ; 
Hear what an author's fancy heard a city brother say 
When just about to be " moving," upon the First of May. 

[A small orphaned boy, whose residence just 
now is the neighboring poor-house, and who, 
even in that environment, has developed won- 
derful taste and talent, recites : 

THE OLD HYMN-BOOK 

Yes, wife, we're going to move once more ; 

The last time, I declare, 
Until the everlasting shore 

Sends word it wants us there ! 
Some things this time with us we'll take, 

Some leave here in disgust, 
And some we'll lose, and some we'll break, 

As movers always must. 



THIRD CHAIN 85 

The family Bible we will find 

Devoutly carried through ; 
But also, wife, don't fail to mind 

And save the hymn-book, too ! 

Though finger-marked and cupboard-worn, 

And shabby in its looks, 
I prize that volume, soiled and torn, 

Next to the Book of books ; 
When David trimmed his golden lyre 

With song forget-me-nots, 
He left a flame of sacred fire 

For Wesley and for Watts. 
And many other singers, wife, 

Have made God's glory known 
In hymns and tunes that drew their life 

From echoes round the throne ! 

I've sung them when, on lofty track, 

My heart soared through the sky, 
And every word and tone brought back 

A telegraph reply; 
I've hummed them when my soul with grief 

Feared all its prayers were vain, 
Till they have braced up my belief 

And soothed my doubting pain; 
I've told them to the woods, and stirred 

The trees up to rejoice ; 
I've joined in meetings where God heard 

Ten thousand in one voice ! 



86 CITY LEGENDS 

I've paused — those sacred words to hear — 

When life was gay and bright, 
And every sound that charmed the ear 

Brought glory to the sight ; 
I've heard them when the sexton's spade 

Had cut my life in two, 
And my sad heart, by their sweet aid, 

Has walked the valley through. 
Ah, wife ! when heaven's great music-burst 

Awakes my senses dim, 
« I humbly hope they'll give me first 

A good old-fashioned hymn ! 

I trust, when our last moving-day 

Has shown us God's good love, 
And we have settled down to stay 

In colonies above, 
We'll find a hundred earthly things 

Our hearts had twined about, 
And which — so tight the memory clings — 

Heaven wouldn't be heaven without; 
And somewhere, in that blessed place, 

God grant I may behold, 
Near by the precious word of grace, 

My hymn-book, bound in gold ! 

[A great deal of appreciation is expressed of 
the reading of this poem. No one seems 
much struck by the subject-matter, except the 
old clergyman, who remarks that he has a 
series of fourteen sermons upon the influence 



THIRD CHAIN 8? 

of kymns on the human race, which he will 
be happy to give at the school-house, or any 
other place where an audience will assemble 
to hear them. Deacon Kindman makes ar- 
rangements to have the first of the series de- 
livered in his parlor tipon the ensuing Thurs- 
day evening, and all the company promise to 
be present, if possible. 

Deacon Kindman. 
And now our good old pastor, whose heart is ever 

alive 
To other good old pastors, and how they toil and 

strive, 
Will read how a city preacher, with fame in his well- 

filled hand, 
Became as little children, when near to the heavenly 

land. 

The old Clergyman reads : 

THE PASTOR'S FAREWELL* 

The sermon was o'er — the prayer — the song — 
And dimmed was the mellow light ; 

With summer at heart, the homeward throng 
Went out in the winter night. 

* An incident that occurred during Henry Ward Beecher's 
last Sifnday evening in the church where he had preached so many 
years. 



88 CITY LEGENDS 

But the pastor staved, at his tired heart's choice, 

To list to the chanted word ; 
For the organ-loft and the human voice 

Still sang- to the pastor's Lord. 

The sweet tones brought to his wearied heart 

Their mingled smiles and tears; 
And he felt that night full loath to part 

From the shrine of forty years. 

The scene of a thousand wondrous hours 

He saw. as he glanced around; 
The vase of affection's faithful flowers. 

The blood of a battle-ground. 

Twas here he had preached, with tones of love 

Or the clarion call of strife. 
Of God within, as well as above. 

And sweetened the bread of life. 

And here, with gesture of brave command 

And tenderly beaming face. 
He reached to the world a thrilling hand, 

And fought for the human race. 

'Twas here, with a strength by anguish bought 

And a love that never slept. 
He rocked the cradle of new-born thought. 

While the century smiled and wept. 

He saw the thousands that o'er this track • 
Had walked to the country of day ; 



THIRD CHAIN 89 

And now they seemed to be reaching back, 
And beckoning him away. 

But ere long time his soul had been 

By olden memories stirred, 
Two children softly wandered in, 

To list to the chanted word. 

Two young, fresh hearts, with a goodly sum 

Of Innocence' saving leaven, 
Like such, it is said, ours must become 

Before we can enter heaven. 

They heard in silence, with face upturned, 

And tremulous, deep surprise, 
And all the fire of the music burned 

Within their youthful eyes. 

There crept to the old man's eyes a mist; 

And down the pulpit stair 
He gently came, and tenderly kissed 

The children lingering there; 

And o'er their shoulders his arms he threw, 

This king with the crown of gray; 
And finally, like three comrades true, 

Together they walked away. 

And two went out in the winter ni^ht. 

Their earth-toil just begun ; 
The other, forth to eternal light — 

His work for the p'anet done. 



QO CITY LEGENDS 

Scene III., the same ; it has been growing dark, and it is near- 
ly time to go home. The remainder of the afternoon has 
passed in recitations, songs, and speeches, and all seem, upon 
the whole, to have had a good time. 

Deaco7i KlNDMAN. 

And now let's be reminded that though Misfortune's 
hand 

Has reached us all for reasons that God can under- 
stand, 

While we, short-sighted creatures, shrink murmuring 
from its touch, 

Yet there are those who suffer a thousand times as 
much. 

\Enter an elocutio?iist, dressed as a tramp. His 
face has a lonely, haggard look ; his eyes 
are cast downward, with occasional furtive 
glances at those before him ; his look of grim 
distress is assumed so naturally that some of 
the cojnpany think at first that he is a real 
tramp. He recites : 



THE CONVICT'S CHRISTMAS EVE 

The term was done ; my penalty was past ; 

I saw the outside of the walls at last. 

When I left that stone punishment of sin, 

'Twas 'most as hard as when I first went in. 

It seemed at once as though the sweet-voiced air 

Told slanderous tales about me everywhere ; 



THIRD CHAIN 

As if the ground itself was shrinking back 

For fear 'twould get the Cain's mark of my track. 

Women would edge away, with shrewd she-guesses, 

As if my very glance would spoil their dresses; 

Men looked me over with close, careless gaze, 

And understood my downcast, jail-bird ways ; 

My hands were so grime-hardened and defiled, 

I wouldn't have had the cheek to pet a child ; 

If I had spoken to a dog that day, 

He would have tipped his nose and walked away. 

And so I wandered in a jail of doubt, 

Whence neither heaven nor earth would let me out; 

The world itself seemed to me every bit 

As hard a prison as the one I'd quit. 

If you are made of anything but dirt, 
If you've a soul that other souls can hurt. 
Turn to the right henceforth, whoever passes ; 
It's death to drop among the lawless classes! 
Men lose who lose the friendship of the law. 
A blessing from each breath of air they draw; 
They know th' advantage of a good clean face, 
When theirs has been disfigured by disgrace ! 

So I trudged round, appropriately slow 

For one with no particular place to go; 

The houses scowled and stared as if to say, 

"You jail-bird, we are honest; walk away!" 

The factories seemed to scream, when I came near. 

"Stand back! unsentenced men are working here!" 



91 



92 CITY LEGENDS 

And virtue had th' appearance, all the time, 
Of trying hard to push me back to crime. 

It struck me strange, that stormy, snow-bleached day, 
To watch the different people on the way, 
All carrying parcels, of all sorts of sizes, 
As carefully as gold and silver prizes. 
Well-dressed or poor — I could not understand 
Why each one hugged a bundle in his hand. 
I asked an old policeman what it meant : 
He looked me over, with eyes shrewdly bent, 
While muttering, in a voice that fairly froze, 
" It's 'cause to-morrow's Christmas, I suppose." 
And then the fact came crashing over me, 
How horribly alone a man can be ! 

I don't pretend what tortures yet may wait 

For souls that have not run their reckonings straight; 

It isn't for mortal ignorance to say 

What kind of night may follow any day ; 

There may be pain for sin some time found out, 

That sin on earth knows nothing yet about ; 

But I don't think there's any harbor known 

Worse for a wrecked soul than to be alone. 

Alone ! — there, maybe, never has occurred 

A word whose gloom is gloomier than that word ! 

You who can brighten up your Christmas joys 
With all affection's small but mighty toys, 
Who fancy that your gifts of love be rash, 
And presents are not worth their price in cash, 



THIRD CHAIN 93 

Thank God, with love and thrift no more at war, 
That you've some one to spend your money for! 
A dollar plays a very dingy part 
Till magnetized by some one's grateful heart. 

So evening saw me straggling up and down 

Within the gayly lighted, desolate town, 

A hungry, sad-heart hermit all the while, 

My rough face begging for a friendly smile. 

Folks talked with folks, in new-made warmth and glee, 

But no one had a word or look for me ; 

Love flowed like water, but it could not make 

The world forgive me for my one mistake! 

An open church some look of welcome wore ; 
I crept in soft, and sat down near the door. 
I'd never seen, 'mongst my unhappy race, 
So many happy children in one place ; 
I never knew how much a hymn could bring 
From heaven, until I heard those children sing; 
I never saw such sweet-breathed gales of glee, 
As swept around that fruitful Christmas tree ! 

You who have tripped through childhood's merry days 
With passionate love protecting all your ways, 
Who did not see a Christmas-time go by 
Without some present for your sparkling eye, 
Thank God, whose goodness gave such joy its birth, 
And scattered heaven-seeds in the dust of earth ! 
In stone-paved ground my thorny field was set : 
I never had a Christmas present yet. 



94 CITY LEGENDS 

And so I sat and saw them, and confess 
Felt the unhappier for their happiness ; 
And when a man gets into such a state, 
He's very proud — or very desolate. 

Just then a cry of "Fire!" amongst us came; 
The pretty Christmas tree was all aflame ! 
And one sweet child there in our startled gaze 
Was screaming, with her white clothes all ablaze ! 

The crowd seemed crazy-like, both old and young, 
And very slow of deed, though swift of tongue. 
But one knew what to do, and not to say, 
And he a convict, just let loose that day. 

I fought like one who deals in deadly strife : 

I wrapped my life around that child's sweet life ; 

I choked the flames that choked her, with rich cloaks 

Stol'n from some good but very frightened folks ; 

I gave the dear girl to her parents' sight, 

Unharmed by anything excepting fright ; 

I tore the blazing branches from the tree, 

Till all was safe, and no one hurt but me. 

That night, of which I asked for sleep in vain — 
That night, that tossed me round on prongs of pain, 
That stabbed me with fierce tortures through and 

through — 
Was still the happiest that I ever knew. 
I felt that I at last had earned a place , 
Among my race, by suffering for my race ; 




A.N OPEN CHI R.CH DOOR SOME LOOK OF WELCOME WORE 



THIRD CHAIN 95 

I felt the glorious facts wouldn't let me miss 
A mother's thanks — perhaps a child's sweet kiss ; 
That man's warm gratitude would find a plan 
To lift me up and help me be a man. 

Next day they brought a letter to my bed ; 
I opened it with tingling nerves, and read : 
" You have upon my kindness certain claims, 
For rescuing my young child from the flames; 
Such deeds deserve a hand unstained by crime ; 
I trust you will reform while yet there's time. 
The blackest sinner may find mercy still. 
(Enclosed please find a thousand-dollar bill.) 
Our paths of course on different roads must lie; 
Don't follow me for any more. Good-bye." 

I scorched the dirty rag till it was black, 
Enclosed it in a rag, and sent it back. 

That very night I cracked a tradesman's door, 
Stole with my blistered hands ten thousand more, 
Which I next day took special pains to send 
To my good, distant, wealthy, high-toned friend ; 
And wrote upon it in a steady hand, 
In words I hoped he wouldn't misunderstand, 
" Money is cheap, as I have shown you here, 
But gratitude and sympathy are dear. 
These rags are stolen — have been — may often be : 
I trust the one wasn't that you sent to me. 
Hoping your pride and you are reconciled — 
From the black, sinful rescuer of your child." 



9 6 CITY LEGENDS 

I crept to court— a crushed, triumphant worm — 
Confessed the theft, and took another term. 

My life closed, and began ; and I went back 
Among the rogues that walk the broad-gauged track. 
I prowl 'mid every sort of sin that's known ; 
I walk rough roads— but do not walk alone. 

[Company take leave of their host, anal disperse, 
cheerfully but thoughtfully, with the con- 
sciousness of having had a splendid time, but 
with pity in their hearts for those who are 
more miserable than Poverty or Wealth could 
possibly make them. 



FOURTH CHAIN 



ffourtb Gbain 



In the last quarter of this century — 
This grand, electric-lighted century — 
This steam-propelled, far-speaking century — 
That called the idle vapors to their work, 
Made giants of them, gave them arms of steel, 
And made them toil ere to their sport returned — 
That caught the fire-fly lightnings on the wing, 
And caged them into lamps that kill the dark — 
Century that confirms the "Arabian Nights" — 
Century with the blossom and the fruit 
Of eons that have grown through tears and blood- 
Century to be quoted as that one 
Wherein Man first declared by deed that he 
Was emperor of all the elements ; 
This quick-nerved, high-strung nineteenth century, 
That found new hideous ways for War to use 
In killing, and thus made Peace fashionable; 
This century that soon, with toll of bell, 
And trumpet-peal, and boom of brazen gun, 
And shouts of men, half joyful and half sad, 
Shall close its clanging gate for evermore — 



IOO CITY LEGENDS 

It is not strange that we should wonder oft 
What legends maybe will be told of us 
In the long, silent century next to come. 

In the new, waiting years so soon to come — 
When boys that now sport laughing in the streets 
Shall be grave grandsires, wondering at the glee 
Of frivolous boys, and sharing dividends 
With their grim, silent partner — Rheumatism ; 
When tiny girls, now perching on our knees, 
Become old ladies, dignified and prim ; 
When " Eighteen hundred" shall a memory be, 
And "Nineteen hundred" sound like old friends' names- 
Perchance the children may some legends hear 
Of this last quarter of this century. 

Tell them of Grant's too-soon pathetic death. 

How the old chief so silently encamped 

In the King-city — two long, mournful days — 

And the weird, mournful nights that flitted round ; 

How past his solemn bed sad thousands marched 

To see him, ere the coverlid was drawn 

O'er his pale face forever ; how at last 

His great black hearse crept up the broad highway 

'Twixt marble palaces thick cloaked in crape, 

And crowded close with hushed and bowing forms ; 

How clans that late had sought each other's blood 

Now arm in arm marched with the conqueror ; 

And how the requiem guns that greeted him 

At his half-made but some day gorgeous tent 

Shook not the city more than did its grief. 



FOURTH CHAIN IOI 

Tell this to them— although may be forgotten 
Amid the century's whirl— this funeral song: 



THE CAPTAIN IS ASLEEP 

Let the muffled drums mourn 

Heavy and deep, 
And flags with crape be borne : 

The Captain is asleep. 
On a hushed and solemn bed. 

Alone he lies. 
Tender words of him are said, 
There are waiting for his hands 
Love bouquets from many lands; 
But he will not rise. 

Never in his childhood days 

Such slumber came ; 
Nor ere war's electric blaze 

Streamed o'er his name, 
When, through eyes with watching dim, 
His voung mother bent o'er him, 
Wreathing hopes upon his brow, 
Did he sleep so well as now. 

Let the silver horns trail 

Anthems that weep; 
Let them voice the early tale 

Of the Captain asleep; 



102 CITY LEGENDS 

Tell the struggles that he knew 
Ere his life-work stood in view, 
And the clouds that vexed his eyes 
Ere his star flashed through the skies. 

Men. you must his mourners be, 

For he was brave ; 
Harvester of courage, he 

Knew when to save; 
Cruel as the tiger's fang 

Until war was done, 
He would soothe the smallest pang 

When the strife was won. 
Only death could conquer him. 
And his right with that was grim. 
As in his best days of pride, 
Hero to the .last he died. 

Women, holy in his eyes 
Was the pureness that you prize ; 
Palaces round him had smiled, 
Kingly shows his days beguiled ; 
But he loved and sought release, 

Turned from lofty spire and dome, 
Came for comfort and for peace 

To the fireside of his home. 

Fame, you have done your best 
For the Warrior of the West, 
Who. with grand, heroic rush, 
Reached your regions at a leap. 




TENDER WORDS OF HIM ARE SAID 



FOURTH CHAIN I03 

Sound his praise again ! — but hush ! 

The Captain is asleep. 
Slumbering early ; but 'tis best 
That the weary man should rest. 
He has had the care and strife, 
Ten times over, of a life. 

Grief, you came when Rest 

Should have thrown her spell — 
You were of rare barbs possessed — 

Oh, you pierced him well ! 
It is brave to fall and die 

With an arrow in the heart ; 
It is noble, great, and high 

To live and bear its smart. 
Sound so grand was never heard 
As is pain without a word. 

Let the drums cease to mourn, 

Let the clouds break, 
Let the badge of grief be torn, 

The Captain is awake ! 
Warriors brave in yonder land, 

Who once lingered here, 
Grasp our Chieftain by the hand, 

Give him friendly cheer! 

11 

Or tell them of the fair ambassadress 

That France — hot-veined republic of the East — 



Io6 CITY LEGENDS 



SONG OF THE UNBUILT SHIP 

They were making me a king of the sea, 

The oceans' pride and fear; 
But ere I was done the world moved on, 

And left me stranded here — 
To the world's sharp eyes an enterprise 

That ere it was tested failed ; 
A ruin low that was always so, 

A wreck that has ne'er been sailed. 
I sit and cower 'neath many an hour 

That drearily drifts to me ; 
But visions have they from far away, 

And these are the sights I see : 

Grim men who toil at blades that spoil, 

In populous far-off lands; 
And murderer-guns that Art's rough sons 

Mould hot in their giant hands; 
Steel diggers of graves, that walk the waves, 

And rule with their rude alarms, 
Or cripple and kill with close-eyed skill, 

And long, invisible arms. 
Oh, a wondrous shower of godlike power 

This grand decade can boast: 
But what if it frown on shipping and town 

Of a long, defenceless coast? 

late been partly remedied, although there is still much to do in 
the matter of a thorough defence of our coasts. 



FOURTH CHAIN loj 

For the great star-ships now suffer eclipse 

That were from the forest born, 
And boats that have birth in the mines of earth 

Are laughing us all to scorn. 
The nation that gave to the watchful wave 

It's swift and strongest guest, 
With triumph is done, and her ocean-sun 

Stands low in the blushing west. 

world just made, your grandeur is weighed, 
Your treasuries all men know ; 

But why should you seek a wealth too weak 
To guard you against a foe ? 

You may gild your domes and adorn your homes, 

Proud men of the Rich New Land ; 
But what are they worth when half the earth 

Be fired by a war's red brand ? 
The watchmen sleep of the banks that keep 

A continent's wealth in store : 
Say, where are your locks when an enemy knocks 

With clinched hand at the door? 
Your daughters and wives, whose winsome lives 

Make every land more fair — 
What have you, then, O thoughtless men, 

To guard them from despair? 

1 see bright gold into tablets rolled ; 
I see iron leagues of ore : 

Rouse up with a zeal for the nation's weal, 
And carry them to the shore ! 



Io8 CITY LEGENDS 

The power to defend holds many a friend ; 

Force oft shows clear the right ; 
The surest lease of comfort and peace 

Is a sturdy strength to fight. 
Let walls of iron your treasurers environ, 

As well as of heart and brain ; 
Shun heedless guilt ; and the ship unbuilt 

May not have sung in vain. 



IV 



Or tell them of the hideous, creeping beast, 
That trailed its slime along our grandest walks, 
That named a million kings Laocoon, 
That twined around the fairest and the best, 
And crushed them in its anaconda-coils ; 
That crept into our homes, and not content 
With driving mortals from their Paradise, 
Would make even that a hell. 



THE SERPENT OF THE STILL 

The tempter, as God's legends tell — 

Allowed on earth to roam- 
Crushed that which Woman ioves so well, 

Her sweet and sacred home. 
From Eden, lost through his black art, 

She wandered out forlorn ; 
She cursed him in her gentle heart 

With meek but deadly scorn. 



FOURTH CHAIN 109 

And since, in varied guise of sin, 

He works his hateful will, 
And reappears to-day within 

The serpent of the still. 

He comes not now in subtle mood — 

With smiles, as long ago — 
Enticing her by honeyed food, 

And mysteries she may know ; 
He makes insulting, swift advance 

Into her bright home-nest, 
Admitted and embraced, perchance, 

By those she loves the best. 
He brings the world where he must dwell, 

Her days and nights to fill, 
Transmuting Paradise to Hell — 

This serpent of the still ! 

He twines about her trembling life, 

And soils it with his slime ; 
He fills the hours with foolish strife, 

He sows the seeds of crime. 
And Poverty and fierce Disease, 

And Hunger and Disgrace, 
And Death by death-empanged degrees, 

Are in his cold embrac 
To grieve, to hurt, to rend, to smite, 

To ruin and to kill, 
Are leaden links of his delight — 

The serpent of the still ! 



HO CITY LEGENDS 

Rouse, woman, in your quiet power, 

Your heart's man-withering frown, 
Your hand that rules the festal hour, 

And crush the monster down ! 
You shape the human form and soul, 

You mark the infant's way, 
Youth's fancy you can oft control, 

Man's action you can sway : 
Bend every blessing of your life 

To fight its deadliest ill ! 
Strike — daughter, maiden, widow, wife- 

This serpent of the still ! 




-^''V^^j^f 




HE TWINES ABOUT HER TREMBLING LIFE 



FIFTH CHAIN 



fftftb Cbatn 

Scene, a club-room. Enter two decayed poets, with several man- 
uscripts which have been submitted to them for consideration. 
They seat themselves solemnly at a table, and proceed to open 
court. 

Smytherres (one of the decayed poets). 
My colleague in poetic etnperorhood, 

I deem it best that we discourse in rhyme; 

In the set sonnet of the olden time ; 
Miltonic sonnet ; for 'tis well and good, 
That we, who might surpass him if we would 

(Our predecessors o'er him used to climb), 

Should let our strains his modest voice o'er-chime ; 
Though we ourselves are still misunderstood, 
Excepting by ourselves and by each other, 

And people will not read the things we write, 
Unless we ask them to — a precious bother! — 

Yet we in criticism can vent some spite, 
And rivals' praises with our venom smother. 

So ope these efforts to our suffering sight. 

JOHNNES (the other decayed poet). 
That we discourse in sonnets, I consent; 

Though from myself, dear brother, please to ask 
Shakespearian rhyme. — So I have precedent, 
My style is proper. — Let us to the task. 

8 113 



114 CITY LEGENDS 

Of manuscripts this package doth consist, 

Which we must now examine, and decide 
Whether they have our license to exist, 

Or whether they in failure must abide. 
Ah me ! — a great responsibility 

It is, to say what shall and shall not live 
In literature and art — especially, 

When some survive, for all the pains we give. 
Draw forth the first presumer that doth wait, 
And let us seal the verdict of his fate. 

Smytherres (opening a package). 
I know not whether it were best to give 

These lines within our time and thought a place; 

They discourse of a non-poetic race ; 
Who, though of course we must permit to live, 
Are mostly ignorant and primitive ; 

Therefore the title shows, upon its face, 

An utter lack of true poetic grace. 
But let us shake it in our critic-sieve; 
For some opinion must be rendered 

On all the manuscripts we are receiving, 
And we have been accused oft-times, 'tis said, 

Of thoughtless, half-malicious judgment giving; 
Therefore these lines shall every word be read 

(Besides, too, that's the way we make our living). 

Reads : 



FIFTH CHAIN 



THE NEGRO FUNERAL 



115 



I was walking in Savannah, past a church decayed and 
dim, 

When there slowly through the window came a plain- 
tive funeral hymn ; 

And a sympathy awakened, and a w T onder quickly grew, 

Till I found myself environed in a little negro pew. 

Out at front a colored couple sat in sorrow nearly wild ; 

On the altar was a coffin, in the coffin was a child. 

I could picture him when living — curly hair, protrud- 
ing lip — 

And had seen perhaps a thousand in my hurried 
Southern trip. 

But no baby ever rested in the soothing arms of Death 
That had fanned more flames of sorrow with his little 

fluttering breath ; 
And no funeral ever glistened with more sympathy 

profound 
Than was in the chain of tear-drops that enclasped 

those mourners round. 

Rose a sad old colored preacher at the little wooden 

desk — 
With a manner grandly awkward, with a countenance 

grotesque ; 
With simplicity and shrewdness on his Ethiopian face; 
With the ignorance and wisdom of a crushed, undying 

race. 



Il6 CITY LEGENDS 

And he said : " Now don' be weepin' for dis pretty bit 

o' clay — 
For de little boy who lived dere, he done gone an' run 

away ! 
He was doin' very fine here, an' he 'preciate your love; 
But his sure 'nuff Father want him in de large house 

up above. 

" Now he didn' give you dat baby, by a hundred thou- 

san' mile ! 
He just think you need some sunshine, an' He lend it 

for a while ! 
An' He let you keep an' love it, till your hearts was 

bigger grown ; 
An' dese silver tears you're sheddin's jest de interest 

on de loan. 

"Here yer oder pretty chilrun ! — don't be makin' it 
appear 

Dat your love got sort o' 'nop'lized by dis little fel- 
low here; 

Don' pile up too much your sorrow on deir little men- 
tal shelves, 

So's to kind o' set 'em wonderin' if dey're no account 
dem selves ! 

"Just you think, you poor deah mounahs, creepin' long 
o'er Sorrow's way, 

What a blessed little picnic dis yere baby's got to- 
day ! 




an' he said, ' NOW don' be weepin' for dis pretty 

BIT O' CLAY'" 



FIFTH CHAIN 1 17 

His gran'faders an' gran'moders crowd de little fellow 

round 
In de angel -tended garden of de Big Plantation 

Ground. 

"An* dey ask him, 'Was your feet sore?' an' take off 

his little shoes, 
An' dey wash him, an' dey kiss him, an' dey say, 'Now 

what's de news ?' 
An' de Lawd done cut his tongue loose; den de little 

fellow say, 
' All our folks down in de valley tries to keep de heb- 

benly way.' 

"An' his eyes dey brightly sparkle at de pretty things 

he view ; 
Den a tear come, an' he whisper, 'But I wan't my 

paryents, too !' 
But de Angel Chief Musician teach dat boy a little 

song : 
Says, ' If only dey be fait'ful dey will soon be comin' 

'long.' 

" An' he'll get an education dat will proberbly be 
worth 

Seberal times as much as any you could buy for him 
on earth ; 

He'll be in de Lawd's big school-house, widout no con- 
tempt or fear; 

While dere's no end to de bad t'ings might have hap- 
pened to him here. 



Il8 CITY LEGENDS 

" So, my pooah dejected mounahs, let your hearts wid 

Jesus rest, 
An' don' go to critercisin' dat ar One w'at knows de 

best! 
He have sent us many comforts — has a right to take 

away — 
To de Lawd be praise an' glory now and ever! — Let 

us pray." 



Johnnes. 
What horrid taste ! what disregard of rules ! 

To pick up such a story as this one, 
And voice it ! where are our poetic schools, 

When such absurd things can be safely done ? 
The proper subjects for poetic flights, 

Are clouds, stars, skies, courts, tournaments, and kings, 
And sickly love-tales. — We must set to rights 

A state of things which tolerates such things. 
Let's give that author such a verbal basting 

That he will never dare again to show 
His head in printed letters, after tasting 

The cup of our acidulated woe. 
To think that pen and type should be defiled 
Upon the funeral of a negro child ! 

Smytherres. 
And dialect — foe to poetic speech — 
Appears here, in this undeserving verse, 
And if 'twere possible, would make it worse. 
Its growing prevalence mankind should teach,' 
That when an author downward thus doth reach, 



FIFTH CHAIN II9 

He should incur the critic's hottest curse — 

His Pegasus being harnessed to his hearse; 
And though the lines of some good writers preach 
That th' exact language men and women use 

Is proper, when their ideas you're expressing, 
Yet 'tis what we prefer to have our views, 

That dialect is an improper dressing. 
Shakespeare, Burns, Dante, Homer, if you choose — 

Had lapses of the same — but 'twas distressing! 

[Sighs deeply, opens another manuscript, and 
reads : 

THE FOUR TRAVELLERS 

They were telling their experience — just a small band 
of that race 

Whose religion oft illumines e'en the darkness of the 
face ; 

Whose true fancy passes limits that cold reason can- 
not reach ; 

Whose expressions are more accurate for the rude- 
ness of their speech. 

And they drew their illustrations — not from ancient 
lore profound— 

But from nineteenth -century wonders, that are scat- 
tered all around. 

And one said : " I'm goin' to hebben in de rowboat ob 

God's grace ; 
An' I'm pullin' mighty lively, for to win de hebbenly 

race." 



120 CITY LEGENDS 

But the leader said : " Be keerful ; for de arm ob flesh 

may fail, 
An' de oars may break — or danger may come ridin' on 

de gale ; 
An' be sure you make dat boat large; for no Christian 

ken affo'd 
To say ' No ' to any helpah who desires to step 

abo'd." 

And one said : " I'm goin' to hebben in de sailboat 

ob de word ; 
An' my faith it stitched de canvas, an' my breeze is 

from de Lord ; 
An' my craft it foam de watahs, as I speed upon my 

way, 
'Till it seems like I was makin' 'bout a hundr'd miles 

a day." 
But the leader said : " Be watchful ; work an' struggle 

more an' more ; 
Look for lots o' calms a-comin' — look for breakers on 

de shore !" 

And one rose and said: "I'm trabellin' in de steamboat 

of God's power, 
An' it seems like I was makin' 'bout a hundred knots 

an hour ! 
An' my berth is all done paid for — an' my d'rection all 

is known, 
Till our gospel steamer whistles for her landin' near 

de throne !" 



FIFTH CHAIN 121 

And the leader said : " Be earnest ; you jus' watch, an' 

toil, an' pray, 
Les' yer engine bust its boiler, an' you shipwreck on 

de way." 

Then a poor old woman rose up — bent and haggard, 

worn and weak— 
And she leaned upon her crutches, and her tongue was 

slow to speak ; 
And she said : " I up an' started moan dan fifty yeahs 

ago- 
Started off afoot for hebben — an' de journey's mighty 

slow ! 
Dere was streams dat had no bridges — dere was stone- 
hills for to climb — 
Dere was swamps an' stubs an' briers waitin' for me all 
de time ; 

"Dere was clouds ob persecution, full ob thunder an' 

cold rain — 
Dere was any 'mount ob wanderin', dere was woes I 

couldn't explain ; 
Dere was folks dat 'fore I asked 'em, my poor waverin' 

footsteps showed 
Into country dat was pleasant, but dat didn't contain 

de Road ; 
But de Lawd, he fin'lly tol' me, when I'm boun' to 

have de way, 
An' I think perhaps I'm makin' maybe half a mile a 

day." 



122 CITY LEGENDS 

Then the leader said : " Dere's nothin' 'gainst de rapid 
transit plan — 

Jus' you get to hebben, my bredren, any honest way 
you can ! 

If you folks kin sail to glory, I don' know but dat's 
all right ! 

But I cannot help believin'- — if we all should die to- 
night — 

When you boatmen land in Canaan, wid some narrow 
'scapes to tell, 

You'd fin' dat ol' sister waitin', wid her feet all washed 
an' well !" 



JOHNNES. 

Ignorant rhymester ! delver 'mongst the clods! 

Why should he choose such undeserving themes ? 
Why can't he take stars, angels, demons, gods, 

And other subjects fit for poets' dreams? 
Why doesn't he hint what cannot be expressed ? 

Why doesn't he aim at what he ne'er can see? 
Yearn for what wouldn't be known if 'twere possessed- 

Aspire to what he knows can never be ? 
Or why not write as you do ? — rake the past 

For fancies that in others' minds have grown — 
See that they are in proper measure cast — 

Then cheerfully exploit them as his own ? 

SMYTHERRES {angrily). 
You are a thief yourself! 

Johnnes. 

A robber, you ! 



FIFTH CHAIN 1 23 



Smytherres. 
Knave ! 

JOHNNES. 

Plagiarist ! 
Smytherres. 



Emasculated shrew ! 



\They pummel each other rhythmically, with the 
remaining manuscripts. One of them * files 
ope?i, and reveals still another dialect poem, 
upon still another humble subject. This ad- 
ditional calamity unnerves them, and they 
fall into each other's arms, sobbing poetically. 
They read together in silence, as follows : 



THE EARTHQUAKE-PRAYER 

Twas a night of dread in Charleston, and the air was 
thick with fear ; 

Never yet had such a terror dropped its raven mantle 
here ; 

Never yet had deathly sorrow had so strange and sud- 
den birth, 

As upon the visitation of this tempest of the earth. 

For the startled ground was surging as the waves of 

stormy seas, 
And the belfries of the churches fell like stricken forest 

trees ; 

* The manuscripts. 



124 CITY LEGENDS 

And the walls that long had lorded over seen and un- 
seen foe, 

Covered thick with costly ruins this tornado from 
below ! 

There were some who prayed God's presence who to 
God had long been near ; 

There were some for help entreating with repentance 
born of fear ; 

There were some who raved in madness through the 
long and murderous night ; 

There were corses calmly waiting for a mourner's tear- 
ful sight. 

And that dark race whose religion has a superstitious 

trend, 
But whose superstition clambers towards an everlasting 

Friend, 
They were shouting in their frenzy, or in terror meekly 

dumb; 
For they thought the opening signal of the Judgment 

Day had come. 

But there sudden rose among them one of earth's un- 
tutored kings, 

One of those unlooked-for leaders whom an hour of 
danger brings ; 

And he prayed — as souls do often, full of sympathy 
and love — 

Partly to the souls around him, partly to the God 
above. 



FIFTH CHAIN 1 25 

And he said: "I guess it's come, Lawd — dis yer day 
we've prayed so long — 

For de symptoms all aroun' here dey be mos' tre- 
mendous strong; 

But we ain't quite ready yet, Lawd, neber min' how 
well prepared, 

We feel safe in Thy good mercy, but we're ebberlastin' 
scared ! 

" For You see we're mos'ly human when de grave 

comes re'lly nigh, 
An' de spirit wants its freedom, but de flesh it hates 

to die ! 
We've been teasin' You for hebben all de summer 

long, I know ; 
But we ain't in half de hurry dat we was a while ago. 

"When we come to look de facts through, in de light 

ob pain an' fear, 
Dere is holes in all our armor dat at first view didn't 

appear ; 
An' we'd like to patch 'em over, if it's all de same to 

You; 
Put it off a yeah, for certain — or perhaps You'd make 
it two ! 

" Then we've got some poor relations who may neber 

see Thy face 
If dey do not earn de riches ob de sin-destroyin' 

grace ; 



126 CITY LEGENDS 

Lawd, protect dem wid Thy patience, jus' de same-like 

as before, 
An' keep diggin' roun' dose fig-trees for anudder year 

or more ! 

" Let 'em off a little longer ! In de light ob dis event, 

Dey may recognize de season as a fine one to re- 
pent ! 

Dey will like Ye when dey know Ye, an' be glad to 
enter in, 

An' dere's some dat's awful good, Lawd, ef it wasn't 
for deir sin ! 

" Dis yer world has lots of fine folks, who is anxious, 

I'm afraid, 
For to pick a little longer 'fore dey have deir baskets 

weighed ; 
An' dere'd be a large major'ty who would vote, it must 

be owned, 
For to hab de world's big fun'ral eberlastin'ly pos'- 

poned ! 

" An' You know, O good deah Fathah, dat Your time 
is all home-made, 

An' a thousan' years is nothin' in Your golden steel- 
yards weighed ; 

Keep de same ol' footstool yet, Lawd ; hoi' it steady, 
I implore ! 

It '11 maybe suit You better if You use it jes once 
more ! 



FIFTH CHAIN \2J 

"But ob co'se our weak-eyed wisdom's like a rain- 
drop in de sea, 

An* we ain't got any business to be mendin' plans for 
Thee ; 

If it's time to leave dese quarters an' go somewhar 
else to board, 

Make de journey jes as easy as your justice can afford ! 

" An' we know You hab a fondness for de average 

human soul, 
So we'll hab consid'ble courage at de callin' ob de roll ; 
You're our sure 'nuff livin' Fathah — You're our fa- 

thahs' God an' frien' — 
To de Lawd be praise an' glory, now an' evermore ! 

Amen !" 



'Twas a day of peace in Charleston, after many days 

of dread, 
And the shelterless were sheltered, and the hungry 

had been fed ; 
And the death - invaded city through its misery now 

could grope, 
And look forward to a future fringed with happiness 

and hope. 

And those faithful dusky Christians will maintain for 
evermore, 

That the fervent prayers they offered drove destruc- 
tion from their shore ; 



128 CITY LEGENDS 

And how much faith moves a mountain, or commands 

a rock to stay, 
Is unknown to earthly ignorance, and for only God to 

say. 



SIXTH CHAIN 



Sijtb Cbain 

Scene I., suburbs of the city of Quebec, in the early morning of 
December 31, 1775. The air is full of falling snow. Wind 
whirls the flakes drearily, and piles them into drifts. A band 
of American soldiers are waiting to storm a barrier thrown 
across the street. They have sustained a heroic march through 
the forests and mountain passes of Maine and Canada to 
make this fight. Colonel Benedict Arnold, their leader, ad- 
dresses them. 

Benedict Arnold.* 
Men of the Western world, you stand before 
The mighty throne of England; that pursues 
It's conquests o'er the heights of ocean hills, 
And through the depths of your own forest waves; 
That offers peace, if you will but accept 
Handcuffs and shackles with it ; that perhaps 
May let you live within your wilderness, 
If you will crouch in cabins of disgrace, 
And feed their foreign lordships. You have come 

* The three legends of this chain endeavor to exhibit, in dra- 
matic form, the probable thoughts and feelings of one of the 
most remarkable characters of history — under three widely dif- 
fering sets of circumstances. 



132 CITY LEGENDS 

Through all the dangers Nature could invent, 
Through all the suffering cruelty could ask, 
And fought, meanwhile, a constant, marching war, 
With rocks and hills — with forests and with floods; 
But all that you thus far have done, has been 
The sowing of a seed, whose harvest now 
Stands nodding just before you. Will you reap 
This field of glory ? 

Voices {with a hoarse cheer). 

We will follow you 
Through death, and anything that lies beyond ! 

Arnold. 
Riches await you if you win this fight, 
Honor awaits you if you win this fight, 
Glory awaits you if you win this fight — 

Soldier {aside, shivering as he grasps his snow-covered 
musket). 
I did not leave my well-loved forest home, 
I did not leave my wife and mother weeping, 
I did not leave my blue-eyed baby sleeping, 
Through these vast forest solitudes to roam, 
For honor or for glory or for gold. 
In three great words my motto can be told : 
God, Liberty, and Right! 

For these I fight. 

Arnold {co?itimting). 
Now let me say a word to any one 
Not friendly to this contest : if one's here 
Whose craven heart is still as yet untuned 
To the wild concert-pitch of war, I say 
Get out ! go back ! no bridges have been burned ; 




WILL YOU REAP THIS FIELD OF GLORY?' 



SIXTH CHAIN 133 

Safe hospitals and beds upon the way- 
Will take your puny, worthless bodies in. 
I shall be at the front ! I cannot stay 
Behind, to spur a coward to his duty. 
Go back — weak woman by all women scorned ! 
But if there be those here who do not know 
What life means, without glory ; those whose hearts 
Find mountain air, even, poisoned, when it floats 
Above a land disgraced, come on with me ! 
And if you live, the world shall crown you heroes ; 
And if you die, though we've no Westminster 
Where you can be entombed in marble, yet 
Your names will bivouac in the nation's heart. 

Hoarse Voices. 
Give us the word to charge ! 

Arnold. Now charge, and conquer! 

[They fight their way fiercely through the first 
barrier ; Arnold is wounded and disabled, 
and carried to the rear, his soldiers still 
fighting. 

ARNOLD (as he is borne bleeding past his soldiers). 
Fight on, my men, for glory — riches — fame ! 

SOLDIER (grasping more tightly his musket). 
God, Liberty, and Right— direct my aim ! 



134 CITY LEGENDS 

Scene II., the city of Philadelphia. A room in Arnold's head- 
quarters. Time, January, 1780. He holds in his hand a 
written reprimand from General Washington, which a court- 
martial had ordered administered. He paces the floor like a 

caged panther. 

Arnold. 
I have decided ! — Let these ragged men, 
These poverty-accoutred colonists 
Playing " Republic " at a dime a day, 
Shirk for themselves — stripped of their strongest hope ! 
This hacked-up sword, that I so oft have worn 
In a red sheath of blood — blood of their foes — 
And been abused for all my pains and pain, 
Shall join the cast-off cutlery of fools, 

{Throwing it, crashing, to the floor. 
And I will take the bright, gold-hilted blade, 
Flashing with gems, that England offers me — 
Then hew and stab my way to wealth and power. 
A nation fights for self — why not a man ? 
Man is a nation ! with rich provinces 
Of heart and soul and brain ; and his success 
Is more to him than other men's to him ! 

They'll say, " He is a traitor." Let them howl ! 

Has not Dame Nature given me the cue ? 

The white frost is a traitor to the vine ; 

The head-wind is a traitor to the sail ; 

The tempest is a traitor to the ship ; 

The conflagration traitor to the house — 

And all were friends — until good reasons changed 



SIXTH CHAIN 135 

Their love to venom. And have I not cause 
To shift my blood-drenched loyalty about ? 
What has this puling " nation," with thirteen 
Unluckily numbered colonies, e'er done 
To pay me for myself? — What has it given? 
Honor? — What flags has this frail sinking craft 
With which to cover even a chieftain's corpse r 
My epaulettes are rags ; my titles scorned 
By the same foe that I so oft have driven. 
The English call him " Mr. Washington," 
And me plain Arnold. Honor! — a good joke! 
So, what have these wild upstarts given me, 
To pay me for myself? Is't money? — Well, 
When brass breeds gold, and lead yields diamonds, 
And promises are dollars, then my pay 
Will be a general's meed, and not a serf's ! 

What has this Congress given to me ? One who 
Had suffered fifty deaths that they might live — 
Had climbed and swam from Boston to Quebec- 
Had conquered cataracts, and frosts, and cliffs, 
Then fallen — wounded almost to the death — 
Fighting for them ? — what dulcet word of cheer 
Has Congress offered me to heal my wounds? 
"Spendthrift, come here and settle your accounts!" 
When I on Lake Champlain stood by my ship 
'Mid smoking, crackling masts, and sails, and spars — 
And still fought with the foe — fought them from hell ! — 
What did they do to pay me for my blood ? 
Promoted men above me, who had yet 
To learn the smell of powder ! When beneath 



I36 CITY LEGENDS 

My fallen steed a duel I had waged 

With the foe's army — what magnificent gift 

Did Congress tender me ? — Another horse ! 

As if to say, " If you will ride to death 

In our supreme behalf, we'll pay your fare." . . . 

The card is played! — I am a British subject! — 

A Voice seems to speak to him : 
Arnold, beware ! — A traitor's name 

Is heavy to be borne ; 
Drag not your life through sloughs of shame — 

Seek not a nation's scorn ! 
He who betrays his land of birth, 
Betrays all nations of the earth. 

Arnold, step back ! — You stand before 

The coming century's tread ! 
Men yet to live may curse you sore, 

Long after you are dead ! 
The brave man treacherous to the brave, 
Must suffer, even in the grave. 

Arnold {fiercely, grasping his sword from the floor). 
Whose voice is that ? Coward, come out and fight ! 
Clash not dull words with me ; but try your sword. 
Who are you? {An interval of silence. 

No one's here. ... It was my fancy. 
I am alone. Yet Solitude to-day 
Is grievous company. I'll call my servant, 
And test him slyly if he'll go with me. {Rings. 

Enter Mike, a servant. 



sixth chain i37 

Arnold. 
Mike, this is quite a long and weary war. 

Mike. 

Yes, sirrh, but bedad it '11 be longher and strongher 
and higher and lower and deeper and bloodier— before 
we ever give up ! 

Bedad, before we'll ever give up— we'll foight 'em till 
we can foight no more — and aftherwards, too— a long 
time aftherwards, bedad. 

Arnold. 
Mike, there are those who think we best had yield. 

Mike. 

Yalde? — Give up?— Surrendher ? Sure, sirrh, 
that will never happen until the hottest place known in 
sachred or profane histhory frazes over ; and then, bedad, 
we'll put on the skates and have at 'em ! 

Gineral, I have two little bize— one of them a girrul ; 
sure this same little girrul, she is growin' up to be her 
mother, right over and over again, widout her infirmities 
of temper. 

Gineral, I like that little girrul pretty well ; sure she is 
the only crature in the wurruld that ever set me to 
writhin' po'try ! and I sind her poems ivery day that no 
one but hersilf can undherstand, and she not ould 
enough ; 

I fell in love wid her the very day she was born, and 
me love— it has incr'ased daily since. 

But, Gineral, sooner than I would see our little Re- 
public surrendher, I would take that little girrul, kiss 
her good-bye, and lay her away in her coffin forever. 

[Exit. 



138 city legends 

Arnold. 
Good heavens ! how drear and lonely 'tis, even now, 
This turning on one's Country ! but 'tis done ; 
The card is played ; I am a British subject ! 



Scene III., a hotel room near the city of London in 1794 — twelve 
years after the close of the Revolutionary War. An American 
sits alone at a table writing. A card is handed him by a 
servant. 

American. 
Ah, Talleyrand ! — what can he want with me ? 
Send him up. 

Enter Talleyrand. 

Pardon, Monsieur Anderson ? 

American {rising). 
General, sir. 

Talleyrand. 

Pardon. Parlez vous Frangais ? 

American. 
Not well. 

Talleyrand. 

Then let us in the English talk, 
Which I know little of, but still can use. 
I beg you, General, listen now to me. 
I have been worked much for my country. I 
Have toiled and suffered hard ; it gives me naught 
Except allow me still much more to toil. 
It says to me: "We do not want you now"; 
England replies, " We do not want you here." 



SIXTH CHAIN 139 

And so my heart— true to my country's weal, 
I carry to your land of liberty, 
Hoping my fortune may be nurtured there, 
Till it and I rush to my country's aid. 
Meanwhile, I ask you, General, that you give 
Me letters to some friends in yonder land— 

AMERICAN {rising eagerly to his feet). 
What, friends?— You say I've friends out there ?— Speak 

quick. 
Who are they? — Let me know their names!— Speak 

quick! 
You shall have letters. — Speak ! 
Talleyrand {shrugging his shoulders). 

Why, General, 
I know not who your friends may be ; I know 
Who mine are ; they are those I love right well— 
Those that are true to me, and I to them ; 
I hope some time my country all will say, 
" Talleyrand was our friend." Not now, but some time ! 
You surely have friends in your fatherland ? 
Send me to even the humblest! 
American. 

Talleyrand, 

If you should pace my country, east to west, 
And north to south, and cry out as you walked, 
"Where are the friends of this man? — A reward 
I offer to whome'er to me will bring 
A friend of him whose name this letter bears!" 
Then you would cry to all that Western land 
In vain. — Yet not through silence would you walk: 
Curses would leap at you from every door; 



140 CITY LEGENDS 

Hate's maledictions pierce you through and through ; 
Scorn would creep round you with its withering hiss ; 
Only because you named me as a friend. 
Women and men and children all would cry, 
" Curse him forever !" 

Talleyrand. 

General, why is that ? 
Were you not brave ? 

American {laughing). 

Brave ? ask them was I not ? 
Ask any one that e'er crossed swords with me, 
Was I not brave ? Ask you of any one, 
Peer or subaltern, where was I i' the fight? 
Did I say "Go," or "Come!" Brave? — try me now! 
I was th' Achilles of the western fields ! 
Had I been marshalled in the Trojan wars, 
Homer my praises would be singing yet! 
I would be still a king 'mongst western kings — 
Had I been true — 



Talleyrand. 
American. 



True ? 



Talleyrand, list to me. 
You speak of friends : you have true friends on earth — 
You have some good friends in th' Elysian fields: 
They have marched on, and camp- there till you come. 
Hearts you have tied to ; souls that reach for yours ; 
You know not, happy man, what 'tis to be 
Without one friend, in all God's threefold realm ! 

Talleyrand. 
Without one friend ? 



sixth chain 141 

American. 

I speak it with my heart ! 
I have no friend in earth or heaven, or hell ! 
If I were brought before the bar of God, 
For final judgment, and it should be said, 
" If there be any one in all this throng 
Can speak one word for him, he shall be saved," 
All would be still, in thorny, scornful silence, 
• And I be pushed down, headlong, to my doom. 
Worse than my doom ; for Satan would appear 
At his white-heated iron gate, and shout, 
" You are too vile to come as others do — 
Too treacherous — you would give away the pass ! 
Delve midst the sulphurous filth outside, and then 
Sneak upward from beneath !" 

Talleyrand {aside). 

Insane !— insane ! 

American (over hear z?ig). 
No! no! too sane! too sane! would I might rave! 
I would pay well for lunacy's drum-roll 
To drown the clamor of my thoughts! Too sane! 
God gave to me clear brain — metallic will — 
Warm heart — credentials of a prince 'mongst men ; 
But after me that treacherous spirit came — 
The partner of all traitor-craft; the one 
That helped foul Judas count his silver coins, 
And changed them into lead to sink his soul ; 
That crept up even to Satan ere he fell, 
And whispered, " You can rule instead of God !" 

Talleyrand. 
For God's sake, man, who are you ? — what your crime? 



142 city legends 

American. 
Tis hell enough, to think this day by day; 
But when night comes — the horror-breeding night— 
The black page where are written lurid things 
We will not see or hear by day — there throng 
In the dull currents of my sleep — fierce souls, 
Swarming from dread, cold silences of death. 
One word they whisper in my aching ears, 
Till it becomes a shout ! It walks my brain, 
And leaves its tracks in branded letters there; 
Oh, I can look within, and read it now ! 
Midnight court-martial they hold over me — 
They try me o'er and o'er for the same crime ; 
No one is there to speak a word for me ; 
And the same verdict always follows — " Guilty !" 
And the same sentence — " Do not let him die !" 

Talleyrand. 
Tell me your crime, man, tell me ! 

American. 

Talleyrand, 
You yet are young ; you have the columns still, 
Perchance, of swiftly marching years to form. 
Take this advice from an old worn-out man — 
Worn from without — worn threadbare from within ; 
Be never false to man ; it is a crime ; 
But if you are, man some time may forget it. 
Be never false to woman ; 'tis a crime 
Greater ; but woman, heaven-like, may forgive. 
Be never false to childhood ; 'tis a crime 
Worst of all three ; perhaps God may forgive. 
But ne'er betray your country, till you wish 
To pull the red-hot roof of hell upon you ! 




J&& 



I HAVE NO FRIEND IN EARTH, OR HEAVEN, OR HELL 



sixth chain 143 

Talleyrand. 
What did you do? 

American. 

I'll tell you; nearer! nearer! 
Let me not speak, but whisper the damned truth! 
I took my country's honor from her eyes, 
I took my country's favors from her hand, 
I took my country's strongest-guarded hope, 
Her fortress, heaven-walled by river and hill, 
Key to her hopes — hope of the centuries — 
I took all these — intrusted me by her — 
Took them in my black hands on one black night, 
And — sold them — sold them — sold them— sold them — 

sold them 
As I would vend a paltry patch of earth, 
As I would huckster off a senseless beast — 
Sold them for some few paltry chips of gold — 
Of rotting, rotten, senseless, beastly gold ! 
I sold the Western Hemisphere, and then, 
Poor fool, could not deliver the goods ! 

Talleyrand {rising). 

Your name! 

American. 
Listen ! while I repeat to you the name 
Of one once grandest of the grand, now base — 
So low and vile that men would not even use it 
To step upon, to keep them from the mud ! 
Benedict Arnold, traitor ! 



SEVENTH CHAIN 



Seventh Gbain 

Scene, the cosey back parlor of a city residence. An old-fashioned 
grandmother is sitting in the most pleasant corner, with knit- 
ting-work on her lap. A lady teacher from some neighboring 
boarding-school sits near by, with a book in her hand. Sub- 
dued strains of music come from the front parlor, where Kath- 
erine, the good old lady s favorite granddaughter, is practising 
a brilliant overture. 

Grandmother. 
I'm glad that it suited you, School-ma'am, to spend a 

few days here with Kate : 
You're both of you fine - wove and crisp -like, an' take 

to each other first-rate. 
When woman -hearts tangle together, they twist round 

again and again, 
An' make up a queer sort o' love-match I never have 

noticed in men. 
And, School-ma'am, I'm thriftily anxious about this 

smart gran'child o' mine, 
An' want to talk candid about her, with present an' 

future design. 



148 CITY LEGENDS 

She's hungry for other folks' knowledge, an' never too 
full to be fed ; 

She's packed every book that I know of, all open- 
leaved, like, in her head ; 

The 'rithmetic makes its home with her ; the grammar 
is proud of her tongue ; 

She spells words as if she had made 'em, 'way back 
when the language was young. 

She knows all the g'ography found yet ; she'd feel in 
a manner at home, 

If dropped in the streets of J'rus'lem, or woke up some 
mornin' in Rome. 

She's studied the habits of planets — knows how to call 
names at a star — 

She's traced their invisible railroads, an' tells what 
their time-tables are ; 

She's learnin' the language of heathens, that good- 
minded people abhorred — 

A-thwartin' the old Tower of Babel — undoin' the work 
of the Lord. 

Yes, Teacher, our dear, pretty Kath'rine is very sleek- 
minded an' smart ; 

But still I can't help but to worry concernin' the 
breadth o' her heart! 



Teacher. 

Why ! sympathies need not to narrow, because the 

brain clambers above; 
The more that a genuine heart knows, the better it 

knows how to love. 



SEVENTH CHAIN 



149 



A gem was all crowded with splendor, unseen in the 
gloom of the mines: 

Tis not now the less of a diamond because it is pol- 
ished, and shines ! 

The flower that was hunted by wild weeds, thinks 
never to blossom less fair, 

Because it is borne to a garden, and tended with wis- 
dom and care. 

A lamp in the sky had been tarnished by cloud-birds 
that flew from afar ; 

The wind swept the mist from its brightness — it 
gleamed, all the more of a star ! 

Whate'er is at fault in your grandchild, her learning 
makes easier withstood ; 

Whatever is good in your grandchild, her learning 
makes only more good. 



Grandmother. 
That's nice, soothin' sentiments, School-ma'am, an' 

helps all that works in your line; 
It's one o' your golden opinions — I wish that it also 

was mine ! 
But, Teacher, suppose that she marries — the knives 

of her brain bright and keen — 
An' knows all creation, excep' how to keep her house 

cosey and clean ! 
Suppose when her husband comes home tired, the 

cheer o' her table to seek, 
She feeds him with steak that is soggy, an' tells him 

its meanin' in Greek? 



15° CITY LEGENDS 

Suppose that her coffee is muddy as if it was dipped 

from a trench : 
Will that make his stomach less homesick, because she 

can tell it in French ? 
Suppose that her help is her master, along o' the things 

she don't know : 
Can algebra make up the diff'rence, or grammar-books 

give her a show ? 
Oh, School-ma'am, those women keep house best (with 

nothin' to say ag'in you) 
Who've learned to keep house o' their mothers, an' 

worked all its alphabet through ! 



Teacher. 

Your grandchild must choose for her husband a man 
with an intellect wide, 

Who makes of the well -guarded body a place for the 
soul to reside ; 

Whose home is a God - made cathedral, with heart- 
blessings clear-voiced and sweet; 

Who comes back at night for soul -comfort — not sim- 
ply for what he can eat. 

Who thinks with her, feels with her, helps her — has 
patience for both of their sakes ; 

Who celebrates all her successes, and takes stock in 
all her mistakes. 

Who treasures her well-taught advantage o'er one who 
unstudied begins ; 

Who welcomes with sweet -whispered pleasure each 
step of the race that she wins. 



SEVENTH CHAIN I 5 I 

Who leads her to minds that are kindled with brands 

from the watch-fires of fame ; 
Who's glad that her lamp has been trimmed well, to 

catch the clear sanctified flame. 



Grandmother. 
An' if she shouldn't find this cur'os'ty ? 

Teacher. 

Then let her as single be known ; 
And thank God her training has taught her to work 
out life's problem alone ! 

Grandmother. 
But, School-ma'am, admittin' your arg'ment (if one can 

"admit" what one don't), 
We'll say that she'll marry an angel (though likelier 

'twill happen she won't) ; 
But s'posin' she does, an' her children are sent, same 

as others, to school : 
I worry 'bout whether she'll let 'em be taught by the 

brain-stuffin' rule. 
It hurts me to see 'em build over a child into some- 
body's " pride," 
Through givin' him heartaches each week-day, by 

poundin' his head from inside ! 
They make 'em bite books with their teethin'; grown 

learnin' runs all through their play ; 
They're killin' the children by inches, with five or six 

studies a day. 



152 CITY LEGENDS 

They load 'em with large definitions — as big as the 
children are small ; 

Ah me ! it's a wonder the poor things twist up into 
old folks at all ! 

There's many a poor little cre'tur' with other folks 1 
words over-filled, 

Not only " made mad " by " much learning," but weak- 
ened an' sickened an' killed ! 

There's many a green little grass-mound, whose tenant 
would say, could it talk, 

" I died by their tryin' to run me, before I was able 
to walk !" 

Teacher. 

A blessing's no less of a blessing, because by some one 
'tis abused ; 

The air, fire, and water can murder — and yet they all 
have to be used. 

The steed that we drive to the river, is tempted, not 
tortured, to drink ; 

The child should be given thought-burdens — but only 
to teach him to think. 

Take comfort from now for the future ; for Katherine, 
with all that she knows, 

Is bright as a dollar just minted, and fresh as a new- 
blossomed rose. 

Grandmother. 
But, School-ma'am, I worry (you notice I'm built in a 

worry in' way, 
And ne'er will learn how not to worry, clean up to my 

uttermost day) 




1 - I 

..iV .. 



"there's many a green little grass-mound 



SEVENTH CHAIN I 53 

'Bout whether my granddaughter Kath'rine will nour- 
ish her children to home, 

Or let them run loose, so she sweetly through chari- 
ty's pleasures can roam? 

I worried my children up safely — I care for my grand- 
children too — 

I want my great-grandchildren cared for — so their chil- 
dren also will do. 

Just read how three poor little creatur's, who — born 
too luxurious and high 

To reach happy home and its comforts — were left by 
their mother to die ! 
Teacher reads from a scrap-book : 



KIDNAPPED IN MERCY 



Through long, bright paths of The Gold Streeted 

Town, 
Three angels walked, one day, to make a tour 
In the rude country districts of wide space. 
They sped past mansions built of costly gems — 
Past steeples, minarets, and spires of gold ; 
They crossed a coral bridge on silver wires, 
Swinging above a clear-voiced stream ; they walked 
Through parks that in their laps held sweet bouquets, 
And in their hands waved grand, immortal trees ; 
They passed through all heart-splendors realized — 
Through every pure dream of their lives — come true ! 



154 CITY LEGENDS 

Now, ere they stepped out into cold, wide space, 

And turned the cloud-like hill that hid The Town, 

They trained their eyes on the magnificence 

Of the half-distant city, as if going 

For many years — instead of one short day. 

Along the dusty turnpikes of cold space, 
These angels walked ; they crossed wide avenues 
That led to stars of various size and tint. 
One there was, where a gilded finger-post 
Said, " To the planet Venus." There was one 
That read, "This way to Neptune." — All the stars 
Were listed in the guideposts that they saw. 

And yet they turned not, right nor left ; although 
Their passports, sealed in Heaven, would shelter them 
Where'er they willed to go : they could have known 
Where queenly Saturn found her diamond rings ; 
How the striped juggler, Jupiter, can toss 
Four worlds as playthings round his stalwart form; 
They could have seen th' attendants of the sun 
Feed full each hour his hot electric fires ; 

They passed all these, and came to a small lane, 
Barred by a gate, sagging on one weak hinge, 
With slats part stained and rusted o'er with blood, 
But now and then a wire of pure bright gold; 
Whose latch was set with bright bewildering gems, 
One view of which built passion's wildest fire ; 
But with sharp, gleaming knives concealed within, 
That cut the hand that lifted up the latch. 



SEVENTH CHAIN 155 

This was a road to Earth ; and here they paused, 
Raised the bright, treacherous bolt, and entered through. 
Earth once had been their own sweet, bitter home, 
And still they sadly loved to visit here. 

Through flowers almost as sweet as Heaven could grow, 
Through loathsome, bad -faced weeds that bit and 

stung, 
Past silver-throated birds that made the trees, 
Even, seem to sing — o'er serpents coiled and fierce — 
Past wild brutes that would tear the world in two, 
And white, sweet lambs that loved their angel guests, 
And journeyed after them, and kissed their hands — 
Down this long, crooked, sharp-contrasted lane, 
These angels walked : they were upon The Earth. 

No scenery here, but was each hour surpassed 

In their new home; no architecture grand, 

More than a feeble parody on Heaven. 

What walked they here to see? — They came to help. 

In a rough city road they met with three 

Small children, wandering desolate about, 

Searching for something that would feed their minds, 

And please their fancies ; searching wistfully, 

And weariedly, and with sad countenance, 

For something that would cheer their desolate hearts. 

One was a tiny warrior: he had fought 

With coarser urchins, till his chubby face 

Was scratched and bruised ; — one was a pretty girl, 



156 CITY LEGENDS 

Who made herself believe that rows of stones 
Were mansion walls ; she had her little rooms, 
Each with the sky for ceiling. In one nook, 
She kept a homely, patched-up doll, and oft 
Above it crooned, and kissed it with love-looks. 
Another little girl, with dark, weird eyes, 
Was gazing at the clouds, as if she longed 
To fly with them. But all looked desolate ; 
And near to them, three loathsome shadow-fiends 
Laughed with each other — at the children leered — 
And whispered, "They are certain to be ours." 

By toil, and pain, and many a prayer to God, 
The angels dressed themselves in mortal shape, 
And kindly called the children. — They all came, 
With tears of pleasure framed in eager eyes, 
And hunger in their hearts. 'Twas many a day 
Since they had had such restful, loving words. 

" Where is your mother, little one ?" was asked. 

" Oh, she is at a grand reception, ma'am." 

" Where was she yesterday ?" " At some great feast, 

With many other ladies." — "Day before?" 

" Out at the Home for Helpless Children, ma'am." 

"When does she let you see her?" — "Only just 

Once in a while. But Nurse is good to us, 

And goes and visits with another nurse, 

And lets us run about, and play alone." 

"Where is your father, little ones?" was said. 
"Why, Papa? — let me see — we have one yet — 



SEVENTH CHAIN I 57 

He lives in town, but stays at our house nights. 
I saw him, onlv just a month asro. 
He's very large and pretty— but— he scowls. 
He's getting rich, or something of that kind." 

And still the shadow-fiends together laughed, 
And whispered to each other, " They are ours." 



11 

Once more through paths of The Gold Streeted Town 
These angels walked; and at Heaven's outer gate 
Another angel joined them — dressed in black. 

Far in the country districts of wide space, 

Again they journeyed. — When, this time, was reached 

The gate of Earth— Night stood there, dark and cold. 

Through the long, winding lane they walked ; and then 
On silent streets, by Earth's great shadow hushed. 

Through thrice-locked doors, up lofty velvet stairs 

Of a great mansion, crept the silent four. 

Three children lay upon luxurious cots, 

Restlessly sleeping : one, with tear-stained face, 

Mourned the lost, threadbare doll she loved so well; 

Another curved his brow and shook his fist 

Against some foe he had in Dreamland met; 

The third lay sleeping, with a pretty smile, 

Half hoping and half sure her dreams were true ; 



158 CITY LEGENDS 

But all looked piteous, sad, and desolate. 
And over them the loathsome shadow-fiends 
Laughed with each other — at the children leered — 
And whispered, " They are certain to be ours." 

Softly the angel clothed in black bent down, 
And kissed the little sleepers ; a slight pang 
Vexed each pale face, and then three forms emerged 
From the frail bodies, looking like to them, 
But purer far, and sweeter. With a "smile, 
They gazed up at the looks of love they saw, 
And trembling with the first pure heart-delight 
They ever yet had known, soft kissed the lips 
That bent to them and whispered, " Come with us." 
And then they walked to The Gold Streeted Town. 

Then Faith, one of the angels, said, " Right true 
We were to these sweet colonists of ours; 
And it has been as God said it must be." 
And Hope replied, " The lives we have just saved 
Will learn to help and pity other lives." 
And Charity — chief of the three — exclaimed, 
" Poor parents ! when they find their little ones 
Sleeping so cold, with Death's thin covering, 
They will remember all the sad neglect 
Their careless selfishness around them threw, 
And some time will be richer for their loss." 

And Death said, " Farewell ; I can only go 
Far as the gates ; I ne'er can enter in ; 



SEVENTH CHAIN 159 

I do God's work, but never see His home ;" 

And wrapped his black cloak round him, and was gone. 



Grandmother. 
Now s'p'osin' that Kath'rine should turn out a mother 

like that one, some day, 
An' let my great -gran'childr'n suffer till Heaven had 

to take 'em away? 
Suppose, that in holdin' together outside homes that 

pull at her heart, 
She let's her own fam'ly run helpless, an' sees her own 

home fall apart ? 
She's al'ays herself sacrificin' for others ; which, when 

people do, 
They'll sacrifice, if they ain't careful, the ones that is 

nearest 'em, too. 

Teacher. 

If love and not pride is the reason our good deeds 
about us are strown, 

They help us be true to our loved ones — they make 
us more fond of our own. 

If Charity feeds on Heaven's goodness, and not on 
Earth's senseless display, 

Twill care first for those who are nearest, and lead 
them the same lofty way. 

True Charity comes from the heart - depths, and not 
from pride's glittering foam ; 

Remember — "the light that shines farthest, shines al- 
ways the brightest at home !" 



160 city legends 

Grandmother. 
But, Teacher, I worry 'cause Kath'rine — of nothin' par- 

ticTr afraid — 
Gets humbugged, annoyed, an* imposed on, by those 

she is tryin' to aid ; 
The folks that she lends, never pay her; the gratitude 

does not come roun'; 
I b'lieve that that girl has been humbugged by half 

of the beggars in town! 

Teacher. 

Life throngs with experiments ; most things we do are 
the planting of grain ■ 

Perhaps we are building gold harvests — perchance we 
may fruitless remain. 

On ruins of many a century the edifice stands as we 
gaze; 

A splendid success, loved of Heaven, full many a fail- 
ure repays. 

[ Turns a few leaves of the scrap-book, and reads : 

LADY BOUNTIFUL'S TRIUMPH 

She was modestly winsome, and stylishly fair, 

And the sunbeams had spun the rich skeins of her 

hair, 
And her eyes were as bright as pure diamonds be, 
And her form had the grace of a zephyr-tossed tree; 
She was " pretty," some whispered, and "handsome," 

some said, 
And " beautiful " others described her instead ; 



SEVENTH CHAIN l6l 

And covetous glances were after her sent, 
And flattery followed wherever she went. 

And her heart was as soft as her ribbons were gay, 
And she loved all the world, in a general way 
(For the hard jailer Fashion, with all of his art, 
Cannot chain up a really generous heart), 
And her white hand was open, to prince or to boor, 
If he only was ragged, and wretched, and poor. 

And her husband coined lucre from day unto day, 
And she faithfully struggled to give it away ; 
For if he from the world to win gold had a knack, 
She esteemed it her part to pay some of it back ! 
And Charity knows very well how it thrives, 
When 'tis zealously managed by rich people's wives; 
There's many a lady, whose alms would ill fare, 
If it wasn't for a selfish old husband somewhere ! 

And he smiled on her giving (she gave, as he knew, 
A dollar, where he made a thousand or two) ; 
But his smile had the feel of a good-natured sneer; 
For he fought with the world, and approached it more 

near ; 
And he noticed that all is not Want that complains, 
And that Charity often is scorned for its pains ; 
That the unctuous asking of alms is a gift, 
And that Poverty, sometimes, itself, is a thrift; 
And that he who will carelessly bounties accord, 
Oft is lending to Satan, instead of the Lord. 



162 CITY LEGENDS 

And the first piteous mortal she happened to meet, 
Was a woe-begone beggar, who crept thro' the street ; 
With face properly sad and form carefully bent, 
And a mien that strewed sorrow wherever he went. 
And she wondered what terrible lot could be worse, 
And gave him such cash as she had in her purse ; 
And then went home at once, with a face like the 

sun, 
With her husband to share the good deed she had 

done. 
But he laughingly said, when she pictured her friend, 
" That poor scamp has a bank - book, and money to 

lend." 
And she wept with vexation ; and vowed hot to give 
To a beggar again, long as Heaven let her live. 

And a little while after, it chanced to befall, 
That a sad-looking gentleman made her a call, 
With late news from her pastor ; which bade her ex- 
tend 
To this brother afflicted, the hand of a friend. 
And the sad-looking man drew a picture of gloom 
Of a sick, wretched wife, in a comfortless room ; 
Of the bad luck around him accustomed to lurk, 
And the way he had worked, that he might obtain 

work ; 
And he made her believe, that if help were not found, 
He would starve, ere another bright Sabbath came 

round. 
Then he offered for sale — sadly resolute still— 
A small one-dollar book for a ten-dollar bill. 



SEVENTH CHAIN 163 

And sweet sympathy warmed up her heart, through and 

through, 
And instead of one book, she invested in two ; 
And she waited her husband's home-coming, to run 
And share with his heart the good deed she had done. 
But the afternoon paper contained a hot sketch 
Of this scamp, whom it called "an unprincipled 

wretch," 
Informing an oft-told community how 
He had swindled for months, and was swindling them 

now ; 
And it gave a long history, gloomy with fact, 
And a full-length description, absurdly exact. 
So her husband she met with a pain-chastened grace, 
And a queer look of innocent shame in her face; 
And instead of her setting his heart all astir, 
He employed the whole evening in comforting her, 
And she vowed, if she lived to be ninety years old, 
Of no agent again would she buy, and be sold. 

And the next case of pity her heart chanced to greet, 
Was a hand-organ woman who sat in the street; 
Who, old and unfeminine, said not a word, 
And played a queer tune that could scarcely be heard. 
And 'twas plainly apparent, and hard not to see, 
There were two wooden stumps where her feet ought 

to be. 
And our sweet Lady Bountiful's heart nestled near 
This sister, so palpably wretched and drear; 
And she gave her enough, moved by Charity's call, 
To buy the dame out — legs, hand-organ, and all. 



164 CITY LEGENDS 

And she went home at night with her heart all aglow 
With the help she had given to this daughter of woe; 
And this sweet-bread of deeds— like a generous child — 
She shared with her best friend, who praised her, and 

smiled ; 
For he knew all the time, and so, shortly, did she, 
That this pauper of streets was as rich as need be ; 
And had married a daughter, with splendor quite rare, 
And had given to her jewels a duchess could wear.* 
And our dear Lady Bountiful drooped with dismay, 
At having been tricked in this high-handed way, 
And vowed none again with her bounty to greet, 
Unless blessed with the requisite number of feet. 

And the next, and the next, and the next, and the 

next 
Of the times she was tricked, made her almost as 

vexed ; 
But there came, one dark evening, a gleam of surprise, 
From a woman whose heart had a home in her eyes ; 
Whose words sweetly warmed her fair friend ; for they 

burned 
With gratitude true, that had truly been earned. 
And she murmured, "To me you are dearer than 

breath ; 
You snatched me from sorrow, and suffering, and death; 
You lifted a burden my soul could not bear ; 
You tided me over the rocks of despair. 

* This was also true of a certain Parisian beggaress, who ex- 
ploited the pedal outfit above described. 



SEVENTH CHAIN 1 65 

You saved me my daughter — my husband — my son ; 
God bless you and yours, for the deeds you have done !" 

And the lady's tired heart on this gratitude fed, 
For her husband had happened to hear what was said ; 
And the man of the world — as a tear graced his eye — 
Felt as if he had news from the world in the sky; 
And he said to his wife, as her gemmed hand he 

pressed, 
" This transaction defrays the expense of the rest." 



Grandmother. 

But, Teacher, I'll tell my main trouble (though less 
than the ones I have said) ; 

I'm gettin' behind the times daily, while Kate keeps 
a-gettin' ahead. 

She'll grow a fine lady, and nothin' between us in com- 
mon there'll be ; 

Now don'{ you think, some time or other, that Kate '11 
be 'shamed, like, of me?" 

Kate {entering and kissing Grandmother). 
Ashamed of you? Never! — I'd give more for one 

silver hair of your head, 
Than all of the studies I know of, and all of the 

authors I've read ! 
Do you know, you absurd dear old grandma', your 

heart and your brain are more aid, 
Than all of the sciences heard of, and all of the books 

ever made ! 



l66 CITY LEGENDS 

No process that man has discovered, will act out affec- 
tion's pure part ; 

The brain of the head is a failure, compared to the 
brain of the heart ! 

Ashamed of you ? Let your grand life-work an answer 
unqualified be ! 

Pray God that my life may be lived so you'll never be 
"'shamed like" of me! 



THE END 



By REBECCA HARDING DAVJ.S 



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